LAMARTINE 


AND    HIS 


FRIENDS 

BY 

HENRI  DE  LACRETELLE 


TRANSLATED   FROM   THE   FRENCH 


MARIA  E.  ODELL 


NEW   YORK 
G.    P.    PUTNAM'S    SONS 

182     FIFTH     AVENUE 
I880. 


COPYRIGHT,  1880,  BY  G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  NEW  YOHJC. 


CONTENTS. 


I. — FIRST  VIEW  OF  LAMARTINE I 

II. — THE  BEGINNING  OF  OUR  FRIENDSHIP.         .        14 

III. — LIFE  AT  SAINT-POINT 26 

IV.— THE  RECEPTIONS  AT  PARIS.  •••  39 
V. — SOCIETY  AT  SAINT-POINT.  .  .  .  .53 
VI.— THE  "BiEN  PUBLIC.".  .  .  .  .  69 

VII. — MONCEAUX 83 

VIII. — THE  BANQUET  AT  MACON 101 

IX. — PREPARING  FOR  THE  REPUBLIC.      .       .       .116 

X. — THE  REPUBLIC  OF  1848 130 

XI.— THE  ADDRESS  AT  CORMATIN.          .       .       .154 

XII. — AUTUMN  AT  SAINT-POINT 167 

XIII. — REMINISCENCES. 176 

XIV.— PECUNIARY  TROUBLES.          .       .       .       .186 

XV. — RECOLLECTIONS  OF  PARIS 203 

XVI.— ARRANGING.  THE  DRAMA 220 

XVII.— SAINT-POINT 234 

'XVIII.— 1849  TO  1851 .247 

XIX.— A  PERIOD  OF  RELAXATION 264 

XX. — LAMARTINE'S  BENEFICENCE.          .        .        .      279 

XXI. — LAST  YEARS 301 

XXII.— LAMARTINE'S  DEATH 319 


LAMARTINE  AND   HIS   FRIENDS. 


I. 


First  view  of  Lamartine, 

I  BELONG  to  that  privileged  group  which  had 
the  happiness  to  live  in  the  light  of  the  greatest 
genius  of  this  age.  I  believe  it  to  be  my  duty  to  tell 
all  that  I  know  of  this  noble  life,  that  my  contempo- 
raries may  record  it  later  in  history.  I  will  tell  of  his 
greatness,  and  will  not  be  silent  upon  his  weakness. 
Such  a  statue  should  be  placed  in  its  true  light. 
Sincerity  is  an  homage  to  it ;  and  if  the  measure  of 
praise  is  a  hundred  times  larger  than  that  of  criti- 
cism, it  is  because  I  have  penetrated  the  depths  of 
a  soul  into  which  God  has  put  the  most  of  him- 
self. 

My  companions  and  I  often  bowed  before  the 
ideas  that  he  promulgated,  but  seldom  before  the 
man.  We  were  satisfied  in  loving  him,  and  I  do  not 
think  that  our  friendship  should  exclude  admiration. 
I  was  very  young  when  I  first  saw  him  who  was  to 
charm  and  impassion  so  many  years  of  my  life.  My 
father  was  walking  in  the  garden  of  Bel-Air,  one 
afternoon  in  autumn,  when  the  name  of  Lamartine 


2  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

resounded  through  the  house.     I  remember  that  my 
mother  smiled,  while  I  felt  myself  growing  pale. 

M.  de  Lamartine,  coming  seldom  to  Macon,did 
not  often  visit  his  "  confrere  "  of  the  Academy.     He 
was  thought  to  be  a  legitimist,  and  he  believed  him- 
self one  ;  on  the  contrary,  my  father  was  the  leader  of 
the  liberal  party  in  the  city^    Their  relations  were  not 
intimate,  but  every  bower  and  grove  of  Bel- Air  was  a 
kind  of  sanctuary   for  worship  and  incense-burning 
before  the  poet.     From  my  early  college  days,  I  had 
bowed  in  admiration    before  two  idols,    Lamartine, 
and    Hugo.     Their  verses,    committed  to   memory, 
were  the  charm  of  my  rambles,  and  the  loving  com- 
panions of  my  solitude.     I  could  conceive  of  nothing 
more  radiant  than  their  glory.     So,  there  was  for  me, 
something  supernatural  in  such  a  visit.     I  should  not 
have  been  more  impressed,  had  it  been  announced 
that   Homer,   Virgil    and  Shakespeare,  were  coming 
down  the  avenue  of  horse-chestnuts,  and  that  it  was 
one  of  their  divine  hands,  then  ringing  the  door-bell. 
My  first  impulse  was  to  run  away,  still  I  wanted 
to  see,  so  I  hid  myself  in  my  mother's  room.     Noise- 
lessly, I  turned   the  slats  of  the  window  blind,  and 
peeped  through.     Lamartine  was  sitting  in  front  of 
the  house,  under  a  great  tree,  which  partially  shaded 
him.     He  must  have  been  about  forty  years  of  age, 
it  being  in  the  early  days  of  the  government  of  July. 
He  still  preserved  that  well-known  elegance,  which 


FIRST  VIEW  OF  LAMARTINE.  3 

accorded  so  well  with  the  purity  and  seriousness  ot 
his  stanzas.  His  manly  and  gentle  face,  with  its 
firmly  carved  features,  stood  out  like  marble,  in  the 
shadow  of  the  tree.  His  harmonious,  and  simple 
manner,  even  in  repose,  asserted  the  strength  of 
his  genius,  and  his  great  black  eyes,  shining  with  the 
light  of  the  Orient,  reflected  the  goodness  and  beauty 
of  his  soul.  By  his  dress  and  attitude  one  could 
easily  tell  that  a  part  of  his  time  was  spent  on  horse- 
back. Even  at  that  time,  he  was  wearing  one  of 
those  high  grey  hats,  afterwards  so  well  known  in 
Paris,  and  such  as  he  continued  to  wear,  summer,  and 
winter,  to  the  end  of  his  days,  He  was  fondling  a 
greyhound  that  had  followed  him,  and  the  first  sound 
that  I  heard  of  that  deep  voice  which  was  to  resound 
from  the  tribune,  and  sink  into  the  hearts  of  the  peo- 
ple, was  the  name  of  his  dog—  Fido. 

My  father  hastened  to  meet  him.  He  had  an 
exquisite  grace  in  conversation,  quite  equal  to  M.  de 
Lamartine,  who  was  one  of  the  most  charming  talk- 
ers in  the  world.  I  listened  behind  the  blind,  more 
absorbed  in  contemplation  than  interested  in  the 
discourse.  They  discussed  politics,  the  academy, 
their  travels,  and  the  vintages.  Finally  M.  de 
Lamartine  deigned  to  inquire  about  me. 

"  He  is  a  great  boy,  who  can  scarcely  be  roused 
from  his  reveries,  and  with  strongly  implanted  repub- 
lican ideas,"  replied  my  father,  "  He  has  already 


4  LA  MA  R  TINE  A  ND  HIS  FRIEND  S. 

dedicated  to  you  several  ambitious  poems,  which  I 
have  thrown  into  the  fire." 

The  poet  counted  his  enthusiasts  by  thousands, 
but  he  was  polite  enough  to  smile  benevolently,  and 
I  was  much  moved. 

I  remember,  as  the  conversation  became  more 
familiar,  that  my  father  asked  Lamartine,  if  he  had  a 
good  memory.  The  reply  was  negative,  which  I 
found  afterwards  to  be  a  calumny,  but  it  was  fol- 
lowed by  this  charming  definition. 

"  Memory  is  the  hand  of  the  mind.  It  collects 
and  coordinates,  but  produces  nothing." 

O,  memory  !  I  now  make  a  pious  invocation  to 
thee  !  Bring  back  to  me,  without  changing  the  purity 
and  vibration,  the  many  words  of  encouragement  and 
advice,  which  have  been  addressed  to  me !  Awaken 
the  sleeping  echoes  of  the  past,  and  restore  to  me  the 
traces  of  his  steps,  who  always  walked  towards  a 
good  intention  and  noble  aim  !  If  thou  wert  faithful, 
how  many  volumes  I  could  fill  with  what  he  said  to 
me  alone  !  But  alas !  'tis  gone,  like  the  murmur  of  a 
great  river  whose  waters  are  dead  ! 

The  second  time  that  I  saw  Lamartine,  was  at 
Saint-Point.  My  father  frequently  visited  him,  and 
took  me  with  him,  one  day,  to  breakfast.  Almost 
every  one  who  will  read  these  lines,  has  made  a  pil- 
grimage there,  either  in  reality,  or  through  the  pages 
where  the  poet  reproduces  those  exquisite  scenes 


MADAME  DE  LAMARTINE. 


5 


with  more  accuracy,  and  more  brilliant  coloring,  than 
the  Camera-obscura  reproduces  the  image. 

The  surrounding  mountains  were  more  sombre 
than  they  are  to-day.  Financial  difficulties  had  not 
compelled  the  sale  of  the  beautiful  forest,  which  then 
covered  them.  The  high  pointed  tower,  adorning 
the  little  castle,  was  not  yet  built.  The  great  stable, 
now  empty,  resounded  with  neighing  and  stamping 
steeds.  Beautiful  young  girls  wandered  gaily  through 
the  fields  and  woods.  The  cries  of  the  peacocks 
were  less  melancholy,  and  all  was  more  primitive 
and  more  pleasing. 

Sitting  in  a  court,  near  a  stone  table,  that  had 
been  brought  from  the  old  abbey  at  Cluny,  and  which 
tradition  said  once  belonged  to  Abelard,  was  a  lady, 
looking  over  and  throwing  upon  the  grass,  a  heap 
of  newspapers  and  pamphlets.  This  was  Mme.  de 
Lamartine.  Their  marriage  had  taken  place  about 
twelve  years  before,  and  already  they  had  travelled 
extensively  in  Italy  and  the  Orient,  as  Lamartine 
had  served  in  the  diplomatic  corps  as  "  charge" 
d'affaires "  at  Florence,  and  afterwards  "  ministre 
pl£nipotentiaire,"  to  Greece.  Their  two  children  un- 
fortunately died  while  in  the  East.  The  marriage 
had  been  a  serious  romance  with  Mme.  de  Lamartine. 
She  was  a  young  English  lady,  distinguished  by  her 
education  and  noble  character.  While  travelling  in 
Europe  with  her  mother,  she  met  Lamartine,  then  in 


6  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

the  glory  of  his  "  Meditations,"  and  was  attracted 
and  dazzled  by  his  talent.  Even  if  she  were  con- 
scious that  she  was  giving  herself  to  a  genius  at  her 
peril,  and  that  her  fortune  would  only  add  a  greater 
lustre  to  an  already  luminous  train,  she  was  willing  to 
make  the  sacrifice,  if  there  was  to  be  one.  There 
were  difficulties.  Lamartine's  family,  strictly  ortho- 
dox in  its  Catholicism,  was  alarmed  at  the  invasion  of 
a  protestant.  But  he,  who  had  examined,  and  well 
understood  the  heart,  and  who  had  also  learned  from 
the  ancients  that  marriage  is  the  "res  politica  vitae," 
felt  no  scruples.  However,  the  young  lady,  not  will- 
ing to  be  an  object  of  controversy,  and  confident  that 
the  religious  belief  to  which  the  man  she  loved  gave 
his  tacit  consent,  ought  to  be  the  best,  was  quickly 
converted,  and  became  a  French  woman,  as  nearly  as 
any  one  can.  She  accomplished  the  sacrifice  of  her 
ideas  with  a  steady  purpose,  and  enthusiastic  devo- 
tion, and  by  her  persevering  assimilation  to  French 
thought,  and  sentiment,  she  gradually  lost  her  Eng- 
lish characteristics.  At  first  she  had  the  zeal  of  a 
neophyte.  Better  versed  in  orthography  than  her 
husband,  she  assumed  the  charge  of  correcting  his 
proofs,  and  she  was  alarmed  at  whatever  offended  her 
new  dogma.  As  the  pages  grew  more  and  more 
philosophical,  she  often  exhausted  herself  in  defend- 
ing an  orthodoxy  that,  at  one  time,  had  almost  exiled 
her  from  her  happiness.  But  an  intelligence,  so  full 


MADAME  DE  LAMARTINE.  7 

of  light,  comprehended  at  last  that  a  zeal  could  be 
excessive,  so  dividing  her  time  between  her  painting, 
in  which  she  was  an  artist,  and  her  works  of  charity, 
where  she  showed  herself  a  simple  Christian,  she 
descended  gracefully  from  her  intolerance,  and  be- 
came in  politics  as  well  as  in  literature,  the  true 
companion  of  her  husband.  Inspired  by  admiration 
and  a  keen  sense  of  her  duty,  she,  who  from  her 
youth  had  quaffed  from  the  fountains  of  aristocratic 
pride,  became  at  length  a  republican  militant. 

In  1848,  I  saw  her  urge  Lamartine  towards  the 
barricades,  from  which  she  knew  he  was  praying 
never  to  return.  I  have  seen  her,  times  without 
number,  aiding  the  most  humble,  and  making  them 
feel  that  she  was  one  of  them,  without  in  the  least 
losing  her  own  dignity.  Noble  in  her  poverty,  as 
she  was  modest  in  her  luxury,  she  dwells  a  holy  and 
happy  martyr  in  my  memory.  At  this  time,  how- 
ever, when  I  first  saw  her,  she  was  far  from  the  lavas 
of  those  popular  eruptions,  and  domestic  sorrows, 
which  subsequently  overwhelmed  her  happiness  and 
home.  I  remember  that  she  was  wearing  mourning 
for  her  little  Julia,  who  died  in  Judea,  where  they 
buried  her  under  a  palm,  like  a  child  of  the  Bible. 
No  one  knew  better  than  Mme.  de  Lamartine,  how 
to  conceal  her  grief  under  the  charming  exterior  of  a 
hospitable  hostess.  She  made  us  sit  down  beside  her, 
while  she  told  of  the  newspaper  work  before  her. 


8  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

Lamartine,  descending  the  little  wooden  staircase 
that  led  from  his  study  to  the  court,  met  there,  Aime 
Martin  and  Edgar  Quinet.  He  was  followed  by  an 
old  priest,  very  thin,  and  very  diffident,  whom  he 
designated  as  the  old  cure  of  Saint-Point.  Aimd 
Martin  had  already  married  the  widow  of  Bernardin 
de  Saint  Pierre.  He  made  his  debut  as  an  author  in 
"  Lettres  a  Emilie,"  a  juvenile  production,  and  had 
just  published  another  book  entitled,  "L'Education 
par  les  meres  de  famille,"  where  free  thought  breathed 
in  every  page.  His  unpleasant  face  with  its  little 
black  moustache,  appeared  to  me  ill-humored  and 
taciturn,  but  I  was  willing  to  believe  in  his  redeeming 
qualities,  in  consideration  of  the  good  intention  of  his 
books,  and  the  friendship  Lamartine  manifested 
towards  him. 

Edgar  Quinet,  beside  whom  I  now  have  the  honor 
of  sitting  in  the  National  Assembly,  was  just  begin- 
ning his  career,  which  since  then,  not  even  interrupted 
by  twenty  years  of  exile,  has  been  filled  with  poetry, 
eloquence,  and  patriotism.  Already  he  had  won 
popular  favor  by  the  success  of  his  poem  in  prose, 
"  Ahasuerus." 

His  meditative  seriousness  foreshadowed  the  phil- 
osopher and  republican,  and  his  conversation  out- 
lined the  substance  of  a  work  upon  the  "  Revolution 
of  Italy,"  and  also  that  magnificent  "  History  of  the 
French  Revolution,"  which  did  not  appear  until 


EDGAR  QUINET.  g 

1861.  He  who  later,  aided  by  Michelet,  attacked  the 
Jesuits  so  vigorously,  supplied  what  was  lacking  in 
the  silence  of  Aime  Martin,  in  an  earnest  discussion 
with  Mme.  de  Lamartine,  who  had  all  the  ardor  of  a 
polemical  religionist. 

My  father  was,  however,  the  best  talker,  and 
commanded  the  most  attentive  listeners. 

The  little  dining-room,  which  was  large  enough  to 
offer  the  most  generous  hospitality  to  all  the  celeb- 
rities of  Europe  for  half  a  century,  was  redolent 
with  the  perfumes  of  autumn,  and  the  repast  was 
replete  with  cheer.  Every  one  had  an  anecdote 
to  relate.  Edgar  Quinet  had  just  left  Paris,  and  in 
Paris  was  the  Abbaye-aux-Bois,  and  in  the  Abbaye- 
aux-Bois  was  M.  de  Chateaubriand,  who  had  given 
Mme.  Re'camier  a  few  pages  of  his  "  Memoires 
d'outre-tombe,"  which  were  not  to  be  published 
until  after  his  death.  Quinet,  though  a  conversa- 
tional genius,  drew  his  inspiration  from  Chateaubri- 
and, and  narrated  some  of  the  breakfast-table  con- 
versations at  Prague,  where  the  royal  family  was 
exiled.  These  breakfasts  were  not  so  charming  as 
Lamartine's. 

I  do  not  know  how  it  happened  that  the  conver- 
sation turned  upon  the  Maconnais.  Saint-Point  is 
only  six  miles  from  Cluny.  My  father  with  the  elo- 
quence and  interest  of  a  historian,  retold  the  marvel- 
lous story  of  the  Benedictine  Abbey  of  Cluny,  that 


IO  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

had  given  three  popes  to  Rome,  and  for  six  centu- 
ries was  the  intellectual  focus  of  the  Catholic  world. 
He  told  of  the  splendor  of  the  sacristy,  that  had  no 
parallel  in  France,  of  the  library,  and  of  the  capacities 
of  the  abbey,  which  were  so  great,  that  when  Saint 
Louis,  and  his  retinue  of  three  thousand  lords,  came 
to  visit,  not  a  monk  was  disturbed  in  his  cell.  He 
anathematized  without  pity  the  vandal,  who,  in  1810, 
had  sold  those  grand  old  stones  which  even  the 
Revolution  had  respected. 

In  the  meantime,  Mme  de  Lamartine  had  become 
visibly  embarrassed  ;  the  old  cur£  bent  his  head  over 
his  plate ;  the  young  ladies  whispered  to  each  other, 
and  the  servants  smiled.  It  was  evident  that  my 
father  had  chosen  an  unfortunate  topic. 

Lamartine,  departing  from  his  habitual  courtesy, 
interrupted  him,  and  taking  religious  houses  as  a  kind 
of  text,  made  a  digression  in  favor  of  Mount  Cassin. 
It  was  an  admirable  story  of  a  morning  visit  to  the 
monastery,  which,  as  its  name  indicates,  was  situated 
on  the  heights.  The  departure  was  from  the  little 
inn  at  St.  Germane,  accompanied  by  a  Roman  prince, 
and  his  two  nieces.  The  morning  sun  was  just  peep- 
ing over  the  trees,  brightening  the  pathway,  and 
gilding  the  windows  of  the  abbey. 

"  We  rang  the  bell,"  said  Lamartine,  "  and  the 
father-porter  opened  the  door.  He  saluted  the 
prince,  and  made  a  furtive  sign  of  the  cross  at  the 


THE  MONK  AND   THE  GIRL   VISITORS.  \  \ 

sight  of  the  nieces.  He  said  that  his  house  was  holy, 
and  nothing  unclean  could  enter  there.  The  unclean- 
ness  was  a  young  laughing  countess,  and  her  pretty 
sister,  trying  to  penetrate  the  dimness  of  the  clois- 
ters with  their  great  black  eyes.  They  shook  their 
heads  impatiently  under  their  umbrellas,  and  used  as 
many  artifices  and  as  much  cajolery  to  persuade  the 
father,  as  if  they  were  dealing  with  St.  Peter  himself. 
The  monk  adhered,  heroically,  to  his  principles.  We 
could  hear  the  rich  tones  of  the  organ  in  the  chapel. 
Through  the  half  open  gate,  we  could  see  the  shining 
altar,  and  the  outlines  of  a  madonna,  with  more 
diamonds  on  her  waxen  neck,  than  an  archduchess 
would  wear  at  a  ball.  The  air  was  fragrant  with  the 
sweet  odors  of  violets  and  mignonette,  growing  abund- 
antly in  the  courts. 

"The  two  charming  sinners  reluctantly  sat  down  on 
the  outside  steps,  while  we  were  permitted  to  enter, 
although  one  half  of  our  pleasure  was  left  behind. 
Our  guide  showed  us  everything,  but  we  saw  noth- 
ing. Finally  we  reached  the  library,  permeated  with 
the  piety  of  ages,  where  the  great  books  were  re- 
flected in  the  mirror-like  brightness  of  its  tiled  floor. 
A  young  man,  having  the  face  of  a  Casanova,  in  the 
costume  of  a  novice,  was  writing  at  a  long  table.  I 
cast  my  eyes  over  his  shoulder.  He  was  writing  a 
panegyric,  in  Latin,  upon  the  celibacy  of  priests.  The 
future  monk  rose.  He  belonged  to  a  family  of  dis- 


!  2  LA  MAR  TINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

tinction,  and  knew  the  prince.  Desiring  to  do  the 
honors  of  the  house,  he  put  his  manuscript  in  a  pocket 
of  his  cassock,  and  preceded  us  in  the  labyrinth  of 
cloisters.  He  talked  of  his  vocation  with  rather  too 
much  emphasis.  Occasionally,  there  came  from  his 
lips  a  low  whistling  of  the  airs  from  the  "  Barbier  de 
Seville."  At  our  departure,  he  politely  conducted 
us  to  the  outside  gate,  and  was  brought  face  to  face 
with  our  inquisitive  petitioners.  They  captured  their 
prey  at  once,  and  with  a  laudable  vengeance  over- 
whelmed him  with  affability,  and  questions.  He 
stammered  out  his  replies,  blushing  violently,  and  did 
not  take  his  eyes  from  the  chestnut  curls  of  the  sig- 
nora.  He  had  the  prudence  not  to  cross  the  thresh- 
old, and  left  us  before  he  had  in  any  way  compro- 
mised himself.  I  watched  him  slowly  disappearing 
in  the  shadows  of  the  cloisters.  Fragments  of  paper 
were  falling  behind  him  on  the  tiles.  He  was  tearing 
to  pieces  his  panegyric  on  celibacy." 

Lamartine  paused,  and  nothing  more  was  said. 
We  rose  from  the  table.  Coffee  was  served  on  the 
balcony,  which  extends  from  the  drawing-room 
towards  the  garden. 

My  father  took  Lamartine  aside  and  said. 

"  So  I,  inadvertently,  made  a  blunder.  Why 
didn't  you  allow  me  to  finish  my  philippic?  Cer- 
tainly you  do  not  favor  the  vandalism  !  " 

Lamartine   pointed    to    the    old    cur£,  who  was 


THE  DESTROYER  OF  CLUNY.  13 

walking  at  a  little  distance  from  them,  reading  his 
breviary  for  his  digestion. 

"  I  beg  a  thousand  pardons,  my  dear  friend,"  said 
he,  "  but  there  is  the  destroyer  of  Cluny." 


II. 

The  Beginning  of  our  Friendship. 

TWO  years  later,  M.  de  Lamartine  extended  to 
me  a  friendship,  which  soon  grew  into  that  in- 
timacy so  precious  to  me.  For  my  passionate  admi- 
ration, he  gave  me  an  indulgent  protection.  In  no 
other  man  of  his  intellect  and  power,  was  there  ever 
found  so  much  simple  affection.  He  did  not  concern 
himself  about  the  age  of  his  companions  ;  he  sought 
for  souls  to  fertilize,  as  the' wind,  transporting  the 
pollen,  seeks  for  corollas.  He  knew  that  he  was  a 
second  Plato,  and  desired  disciples,  and  moreover, 
possessing  an  indefatigable  benevolence,  he  was 
always  ready  with  a  helping  word  and  smile. 

One  day,  I  was  with  Leon  Bruys  d'Ouilly  and 
Guigue  de  Champvans,  both  of  them  relatives  and 
friends,  at  the  little  Chateau  d'Ouilly  in  the  woods  a 
few  miles  from  Saint-Point. 

Sometimes  Leon  and  I  tried  to  persuade  our- 
selves that  hunting  was  an  agreeable  pastime,  but 
more  often,  we  left  our  guns  on  the  moss,  and  took 
our  pencils  to  write  a  few  unpretentious  verses. 
Champvans,  who  disdained  poetry,  went  off  into  the 
by-ways  with  the  "  Contes  de  Voltaire."  Bruys,  who 


GU1GUE  DE  CHAMPVANS.  15 

was  a  dozen  years  older  than  I,  and  whose  unhappy 
history  I  shall  relate  further  on,  was  a  type  of  man 
that  we  envied,  and  a  friend  whom  we  adored.  He 
was  handsome  and  generous,  and  dissipated  one  for- 
tune in  travels,  while  waiting  for  another  from  in- 
heritances. He  was  also  a  poet,  painter,  and  musi- 
cian, and  more  than  all,  thoroughly  good.  At  that 
time,  he  was  building  a  villa  on  the  site  of  the  pater- 
nal chateau,  which,  we  all  knew,  was  destined  for  an 
Italian  countess,  whom  he  was  to  marry,  after  the  old 
count  was  dead.  Leon's  heart  was  given  to  all  sorts 
of  generosities,  and  his  life  to  sentiment.  He  was 
wrong  in  writing  a  poem,  for  he  lived  one. 

Guigue  de  Champvans,  now  Prefect  of  Gard, 
from  whom  I  am  separated  by  an  abyss  of  political 
opinion,  though  hearts  united  from  youth  are  never 
completely  separated,  was  more  intimate  in  the 
family  of  Lamartine  than  we  were.  He  was  private 
secretary,  and  lent  himself  with  facility  and  fidelity, 
to  all  the  different  phases  of  Lamartine's  political 
ideas.  He  saw  more  clearly  than  we,  the  imminency 
of  the  Republic,  and  if  any  one  had  predicted  that 
this  amiable  and  good  fellow,  a  little  of  a  sceptic  too, 
would,  later,  have  imbibed  the  very  quintessence  of 
clericalism,  we  would  have  cried  out  with  holy  hor- 
ror at  the  impossibility.  God  is  good  not  to  let  us 
penetrate  the  winding  paths  of  the  future.  If 
Champvans  is  happy  in  his  retrogressive  conversion, 


1 6  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

I  congratulate  him.  I  only  regret  not  seeing  him 
any  more. 

This  Sunday  morning,  after  the  farmers  and  ser- 
vants had  gone  to  mass,  a  messenger  came  from 
Saint-Point,  saying,  M.  de  Lamartine  had  company, 
and  expected  us  to  lunch  with  him  at  two  o'clock. 
We  saddled  our  horses,  and  crossed  the  mountain. 
It  was  a  beautiful  summer  day..  The  court  at  Saint- 
Point  was  full  of  empty  carriages.  The  grooms 
pressed  into  service  by  Mme.  de  Lamartine,  were 
going  backward  and  forward,  bending  under  the 
weight  of  dishes.  The  easy  chairs  in  the  drawing- 
room  were  occupied  by  ladies  in  handsome  toilettes. 
The  reception,  generally  so  cordial,  had  the  effect  of 
a  diplomatic  ceremony.  There  was  very  little  talking, 
and  Lamartine  seemed  as  wearied  as  if  he  were  at  his 
embassy  at  Florence.  We  three  took  refuge  in  the 
bay  window.  "  Alas  !  "  said  Champvans,  "  We  are 
in  a  wasp's  nest  of  legitimists.  M.  de  Lamartine  has 
opened  his  doors  only  to  the  right  to-day."  "  And 
not  one  of  us  wears  a  decoration  !  We  will  lose  our 
reputations,"  I  replied. 

Bruys  told  us  who  the  people  were.  That  very 
handsome  lady  who  seldom  smiled,  was  Mme.  de 
X ,  living  in  the  neighborhood.  She  was  accom- 
panied by  her  husband  and  Count  Xavier  de  Maistre. 
M.  de  X.,  gave  dinners  to  the  Academicians,  which 
was  as  near  as  he  could  ever  get  to  the  "  pont  des 


COUNT  XA  VIER  DE  MAISTRE.  17 

Arts,"  perhaps  because  he  was  really  entitled  to  ad- 
mission. 

Count  Xavier  de  Maistre  was  repulsive  to  met 
simply  on  account  of  his  name.  I  saw  beside  him 
his  terrible  brother  Joseph,  standing  at  the  foot  of  a 
protective  scaffold,  ill  omened  and  sinister  as  a  white 
Robespierre^  But  this  unreasonable  antipathy  was 
not  lasting,  for  the  Count  was  a  pleasant  old  man, 
with  silvery  white  hair,  lavishing  his  good  humor 
upon  all,  and  we  could  forgive  him  for  having  had 
such  a  brother,  in  consideration  of  his  books  "  Voy- 
age autour  de  ma  chambre,"  and  "  Le  L£preux  de  la 
cite  d'Aoste." 

I  will  say  nothing  of  the  lunch,  which  was  as 
sepulchral  as  a  sacerdotal  ceremony.  There  were  too 
many  marquises  present  for  Lamartine  to  feel  in  his 
element.  He  did  not  talk  a  great  deal.  His  neigh- 
bor Mme.  de  X was  very  beautiful,  but  stupid. 

Mme.  de  Lamartine  tried  to  remove  the  stiffness  by 
a  promenade.  She  led  us  to  the  "  pavilion,"  which 
has  heard  more  magnificent  orations  than  the  Athen- 
ian portico,  for  Lamartine  spent  a  part  of  his  after- 
noons there  for  twenty  years.  This  little  retreat  is 
situated  on  an  elevation  in  the  middle  of  the  garden, 
right  in  the  heart  of  a  valley  enclosed  by  beautiful 
hills.  It  had  a  broad  mossy  seat,  resembling  an 
oriental  divan,  a  floor  covered  with  mats  and  a  ham- 
mock. Two  sides  were  open,  showing  the  rich  land- 


1 8  LA  MAR  TINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

scape,  like  enchanting  scenes  of  a  theatre.  Such 
was  the  little  spot,  that  has  taken  so  large  a  place  in 
our  memories.  It  has  first  heard  the  murmurs  ol 
those  immortal  verses.  It  has  listened  to  the  songs 
of  those  great  artists  who  have  visited  Lamartine. 
It  has  received  Hugo,  Lablache,  Liszt,  Lamennais, 
Lacordaire,  Beranger,  la  Malibran,  Nodier,  Janin,  the 
kings  and  queens  of  poetry  and  song  ;  the  lyres  and 
flutes  of  the  world. 

Those  who  went  to  the  "  pavilion,"  this  day, 
walked  as  solemnly  as  in  a  procession.  M.  de  Mais- 
tre,  no  more  entertaining  than  the  rest,  lighted  a  cigar 
for  lack  of  a  wax  taper.  The  beautiful  Mme.  de  X., 
made  a  little  grimace,  but  resigned  herself  to  the 
smoking  of  an  illustrious  man. 

We  thought  a  storm  was  about  to  appear  in  the 
celestial  serenity  of  that  charming  face.  Mme.  de 
Lamartine  made  a  sign,  and  the  servant  bringing  the 
coffee,  brought  the  pipes  also.  They  were  long  chi- 
bouques from  the  Orient,  full  of  yellow  latakia, 
Bruys,  Champvans  and  I  prepared  to  light  ours. 
We  were  sitting  upon  the  divan,  and  we  exhausted 
our  matches  in  trying  to  reach  the  end  of  the  pipes. 

Mme.  de  X.,  grew  quite  pale,  and  taking  her 
cousin  by  the  arm,  she  went  away,  casting  upon  us 
terrible  looks  of  scorn.  We  heard  her  say  to  her 
friend, 

"  Those  young  men  imagine  themselves  in  a  beer 


MADAME  DE  X.  AND  THE  PIPES.  ig 

saloon!"  Our  position  was  very  delicate.  We  had 
put  to  flight  the  most  charming  woman  of  the  Fau- 
bourg St.  Germain,  and  as  a  recompense,  had  been 
insulted  by  a  mouth  worthy  of  Murillo. 

"  Let  us  invoke  the  gods  for  a  breeze  to  extin- 
guish our  matches,"  whispered  Bruys,  who  was  a 
troubadour. 

"  No,  indeed  !  I  protest  by  a  whole  Vesuvius. 
Down  with  the  aristocrats  !  "  exclaimed  the  revolu- 
tionary Champvans. 

"  But  when  they  are  only  twenty-five  years  old." 
I  pleaded,  taking  the  jasmine  stem  from  my  mouth. 

Mme.  de  Lamartine  had  lost  nothing  of  the  scene, 
nor  of  our  comments.  Such  a  manifestation  could 
have  but  one  interpretation.  Mme.  de  X.  intended 
it  as  a  lesson  in  good  taste. 

Mme.  de  Lamartine  disappeared,  and  very  soon 
returned,  leading  Mme.  de  X.  by  the  hand,  saying, 
"  You  do  not  know  what  you  are  refusing,  my  dear 
friend.  The  incense,  burned  in  the  Delphia  Temple, 
was  extracted  from  this  latakia.  Pardon  me  for 
bringing  you  back  to  the  perfumes  and  habits  of  the 
Orient,  and  permit  yourself  to  be  incensed,  as  a 
Greek  Sultana  that  you  are." 

Then,  kneeling  down  before  us,  Mme.  de  Lamar- 
tine lighted  our  chibouques,  with  the  cigar  of  M.  de 
Maistre. 

M.  de  X.  was  not  much  happier  than  his  charm- 


2Q  LAM 'A R TINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

ing  wife.  I  have  just  said  that  he  was  anxiously 
hoping  for  a  chair  at  the  academy.  Death  alone 
could, offer  an  opportunity  and  prospective  hope,  so 
that  the  illness  of  an  Academician  imposed  a  con- 
sultation with  his  cook.  He  was  a  man  of  strong 
mind  conciliatory,  showing  himself  a  grand  lord  only 
by  his  facility  in  fascinating  the  ladies,  who  felt  the 
charm  of  his  condescension  and  kindly  services. 
Generally,  he  was  as  genial  as  a  mandarin,  but  what 
will  not  the  academic  fever  lead  a  man  to  do,  or  say  ? 

I  had  not  the  honor  of  being  known  to  him. 
After  the  episode  of  pipes,  my  name  was  mentioned. 
He  came  hurriedly  towards  me.  By  way  of  parenthe- 
sis I  must  say,  that  the  newspapers,  merely  to  fill  up 
a  space,  had  announced  the  illness  of  my  father,  con- 
sequently, there  had  been  more  or  less  talk  about  his 
successor.  M.  de  X,  jumped  at  the  question,  without 
any  preparation.  He  could  not  have  sprung  with 
more  agility  towards  the  dome  of  the  "  pont  des 
Arts,"  under  which,  he  had  sworn  that  he  should  be 
received  some  day. 

"How  is  your  father?"  said  he  to  me,  with 
vehement  interest. 

"  Very  well,  or  I  should  not  be  here." 

M.  de  X.  almost  fainted,  although  he  had  a  true 
and  good  heart. 

"  Ah  !  so  much  better  !  "  he  replied. 

Lamartine  told  me  afterwards,  that  he  had  seldom 


AFTER   THE  PARTY.  21 

experienced  such  a  sensation  of  coldness  as  in  hear- 
ing the  intonation  of  that  "  so  much  better."  Those 
few  words  expressed  more  sadness,  than  the  wails  of 
the  chorus,  in  the  Orestes  of  ^schylus. 

"What!  Is  M.  de  Lacretelle  not  going  to  die! 
Is  it  possible  that  I  shall  not  go  back  to  Paris  to  give 
my  dinners,  and  to  make  my  visits  ?  Will  no  one 
resign  his  chair  to  me  ?"  All  this,  and  more,  was  in 
the  little  words.  "  So  much  better." 

And  they  were  addressed  to  a  son  ! 

At  last  the  guests  departed,  and  M.  de  Lamar- 
tine  declared  that  he  would  not  invite  the  nobility 
again  very  soon. 

The  more  he  inclined  towards  democracy,  the 
more  efforts  his  family  made  to  return  him  to  his 
peers,  as  if  such  a  man  had  peers.  It  is  in  vain  for 
any  one  to  throw  himself  into  the  current  of  the  river 
of  Liberty  ;  there  are  always  interfering  friends  with 
good  intentions,  who  bring  back  the  old  clothes  left 
on  the  shore. 

Lamartine  asked  for  a  peplum,  and  they  brought 
him  a  marquis'  costume,  but  he  would  not  put  it  on. 

When  the  guests  had  gone,  Lamartine,  v/ho  had 
been  an  exquisite  in  dress  at  the  end  of  the  Empire, 
put  on  his  old  gray  jacket  and  great  pantaloons  again, 
and  came  back  to  us,  with  his  macaw  on  his  shoulder, 
and  a  pack  of  greyhounds  gambolling  about  him. 

"  Now  let  us  amuse  ourselves,"  said  he, 


22  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS, 

We  were  in  the  blue  room.  The  evenings  were 
growing  cool,  and  the  fire  of  vine-fagots  was  lighted, 
as  usual  every  evening,  summer  and  winter.  Around 
the  table  was  a  group  of  nieces,  who  for  twenty  years, 
succeeded  each  other,  like  the  morning  stars. 

We  went  into  the  billiard  room,  where  at  one 
time  an  inevitable  and  pertinent  pun  escaped  from 
M.  Sauzet,  the  president  of  the  assembly,  who  was 
playing  with  Lamartine. 

"  As  many  caroms  as  I  may  make,  you  will  always 
have  '  cinq  points  '  more,"  (Saint-Point). 

Lamartine  did  not  amuse  us,  he  enchanted  us. 
"  I  was  thinking  of  you  yesterday,''  said  he  to  Bruys, 
and  here  are  a  few  verses  that  I  wrote  on  the  pom- 
mel of  my  saddle,  while  riding  in  the  woods  of  Ouilly. 

Then  he  read  to  us  these  lines,  which  are  in  his 
'  Memoires." 

A  L£ON  BRUYS  D'OUILLY. 

Enfants  de  la  meme  colline 
Abreuves  au  meme  ruisseau, 
Comme  deux  nids  sur  1'aubepine 
Pres  du  mien  Dieu  mil  ton  berceau. 

Souvent  je  vis  ta  jeune  mere 
De  nos  pre's  foulant  le  chemin 
Te  mener  comme  un  jeune  frere 
Vers  moi,  tout  petit  par  la  main, 


AFTER  TEA.  23 

Et  te  soulevant  vers  ma  lyre 
En  ses  bras  qui  tremblaient  un  peu, 
Dans  mes  vers  t'enseigner  a  lire. 
Enfant  quijoue  avec  le  feu. 

So  as  it  often  happened,  we  heard  the  first  vibrations 
of  those  silvery  rhymes.  Bruys  was  happier  than  if 
he  had  heard  of  the  count's  death. 

Tea  was  served,  and  Lamartine  laid  down,  as 
usual,  on  the  great  sofa,  He  would  often  fall  into 
a  doze  ;  then  Mme.  de  Lamartine  would  beg  us  to 
rouse  him  with  questions,  for  such  a  sleep  spoiled 
his  night's  rest.  The  waking  was  always  bright.  To 
be  more  agreeable,  he  resorted  to  excuses  for  keeping 
awake,  chasing  the  dogs  through  the  rooms,  search- 
ing for  cigars  in  mysterious  closets,  where  there  were 
valuable  banknotes,  pages  of  poetry  still  more  valua- 
ble, tobacco  and  Windsor  soap,  all  heaped  together 
in  delightful  confusion.  He  lighted  a  cigar,  but  did 
not  smoke  more  than  half.  Then  he  looked  over  a 
game  of  "  Boston  "  that  one  of  his  sisters  had  ar- 
ranged. He  never  became  interested,  for  he  detested 
cards.  "  I  have  been  a  gambler  "he  said,  "  from 
necessity  ;  that  was  in  the  time  of  poor  Graziella,  in 
lue  des  Florentins,  at  Naples.  I  did  the  same  as 
chevalier  de  Grammont,  but  more  honestly.  My 
family  refused  to  send  me  means,  and  they  were 
right.  For  weeks,  I  ate  nothing  but  a  little  macca- 
roni,  and  then  I  gained  a  thousand  piastres,  with 


24  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

which  I  bought  new  boats  for  all  the  fishermen  of 
Ischia.  I  knew  a  wonderful  combination,  which  I 
had  studied  long  enough  to  have  gained  a  baccalau- 
reate, and  if  I  had  applied  myself  to  it  diligently,  I 
should  have  been  as  rich  as  Rothschild.  I  am  a 
gambler  still,  but  as  I  cannot  indulge  my  passion, 
after  having  received  the  benedictions  of  all  the 
apostolic  hands  of  Europe,  I  have  resigned  myself  to 
the  planting  of  vines. 

"The  vines  are  the  green  cloth  of  the  gaming  table. 
The  sun  and  the  clouds,  are  the  two  croupiers,  who 
throw  you  fortune  or  ruin.  We  will  go  to  Monceaux 
to-morrow,  and  I  will  make  a  calculation  of  my 
grapes.  I  must  have  eighty  thousand  francs  of  wine, 
this  year,  or  else  I  shall  be  reduced  to  the  necessity 
of  killing  my  last  aunt,  as  M.  de  X.,  wanted  to  kill 
jHenri  de  Lacretelle's  father,  this  afternoon.  I  will 
ride  Saphyr,  and  we  will  go  by  the  way  of  Milly,  and 
compose  poetry  on  the  road." 

Nine  o'clock  sounded.  It  was  Lamartine's  bed- 
time. He  carried  with  him  one  of  his  favorite 
books,  Mme.  Sevigne's  or  Voltaire's  letters,  which 
he  never  wearied  of,  or  a  book  of  travels  of  which 
his  library  was  full.  Later  in  life,  he  was  absorbed 
in  Thiers  "  Histoire  de  1'Empire."  He  was  more 
charmed  with  those  pages  which  tell  of  him  whom 
the  world  so  long  accused  of  being  only  a  con};en> 
plat  or. 


LA   CHUTE  D'UN  ANGE.  2$ 

He  went  away  candle  in  hand,  followed  by  his 
white  hound. 

Almost  every  evening  was  passed  in  this  way. 
We  remained  half  an  hour  longer  with  the  ladies. 
One  of  the  party,  who  could  not  keep  a  secret,  be- 
trayed the  confidence  of  a  visit  made  or  received  by 
Lamartine,  I  do  not  remember  which,  explaining  why 
he  needed  the  eighty  thousand  francs.  Mme.  de- 
Lamartine  entertained  us,  with  accounts  of  her  East- 
ern travels.  At  last,  the  candles  were  lighted,  and 
dripped  down  over  the  hands  of  a  gay  company,  who 
mounted  the  broad  winding  stairs.  The  bed-room 
doors  closed  upon  laughing  good-nights,  and  we 
went  off  to  our  rooms,  proud  in  the  consciousness 
that  something  historical  and  beautiful  was  being 
prepared  in  the  house.  We  knew  that  the  next 
morning  at  five  o'clock  Lamartine  would  be  at  work 
upon  one  of  his  wonderful  poems,  for  he  was  then 
writing  "  La  chute  d'un  Ange." 


III. 

Life  at  Saint-Point. 

I  LINGER  over  familiar  details,  for  nothing  con- 
cerning Lamartine  is  lacking  in  interest.  His 
historical  side  I  do  not  propose  to  review.  I  will 
show  him  as  I  have  always  seen  him,  in  the  intimacy 
of  his  home,  and  as  I  think  of  him,  in  his  simplicity 
and  grandeur,  and  as  I  need  him  still,  to  aid  and 
strengthen  me,  whenever  I  am  not  near  Victor  Hugo. 

No  one  dared  to  rise  late  at  Saint-Point.  Lamar- 
tine had  risen.  We  would  imitate  him  in  that  at 
least  and  see  if  from  the  little  study,  at  the  end  of  the 
house,  there  would  not  escape  an  inspiration,  which 
gliding  along  the  gallery  like  an  electric  current  in 
the  morning  air,  would  reach  our  imaginations.  How 
many  times,  as  the  village  clock  was  striking  the 
early  morning  hour,  and  the  sun  was  drying  the 
mists  of  the  valley,  I  have  leaned  from  my  window, 
towards  that  sanctuary,  where  the  high  priest  was 
praying  after  his  own  fashion,  by  writing  one  of  those 
grand  pages,  that  a  loving  public  will  never  forget ! 

Lamartine  in  the  morning  went  directly  from  his 
bedroom  to  his  study,  which  was  a  little  room,  con- 
taining only  a  table  of  black  wood,  and  a  high  easy 


LAMARTINE S  EARL  Y  AIORNING.  2/ 

chair.  He  never  disturbed  a  servant.  Throughout 
the  whole  season,  he  lighted  his  fire  at  five  o'clock, 
and  prepared  a  cup  of  tea. 

During  those  long  morning  hours,  he  covered 
pages  of  enormous  dimensions  with  history,  politics, 
and  memoirs,  writing  with  marvellous  rapidity,  and 
with  an  elegance  which  was  the  last  remains  of  his 
aristocracy. 

How  did  he  compose  his  poems  ?  He  never  told 
me,  but  I  could  divine.  He  belonged  to  his  dogs, 
more  than  the  dogs  belonged  to  him.  There  were 
half-a-dozen  of  them  coming  constantly,  scratching  at 
the  door  opening  on  the  staircase  leading  to  the 
court.  Lamartine  was  never  deaf  to  these  appeals, 
and  the  door  was  always  opened.  They  seemed  to 
know  the  days  that  their  slave  devoted  to  poetry,  and 
came  and  went  oftener  than  usual.  Between  the 
comings,  and  goings,  Lamartine  would  compose  a 
verse.  And  it  was  in  this  way,  that  "  Jocelyn,"  and 
"  La  chute  d'  un  Ange,"  were  written.  Fido  was  his 
co-worker. 

The  poet  was  like  an  Indian  in  his  respect  and 
admiration  for  animals.  In  his  study  he  had  cages 
full  of  birds,  filling  the  room  with  a  noise  insupporta- 
ble to  a  man  less  patient.  When  the  beautiful  West 
Indian  birds,  whose  plumage  was  like  a  painter's 
palette,  were  dead,  they  were  replaced  by  common 
canaries.  Paroquets  and  macaws,  added  their  shrill 


28  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

cries  to  the  clamor.  All  sounds  of  life  were  neces- 
sary to  Lamartine,  who  was  a  musician  by  the  har- 
mony of  his  words. 

He  never  finished  dressing  until  the  breakfast 
bell  rang.  Mme.  de  Lamartine  and  the  guests  did 
not  wait  for  him.  He  would  finally  come,  in  his  old 
gray  jacket,  having  probably  written  twenty  letters, 
independently  of  his  literary  work.  He  always  suf- 
fered more  or  less  from  dyspepsia,  and  consequently 
ate  very  little,  but  he  filled  his  plate  from  which  he 
fed  his  dogs,  to  the  destruction  of  the  dresses  near 
by.  He  did  not  talk  a  great  deal  in  the  morning,  not 
because  of  fatigue  from  his  work,  for  that  he  did  not 
feel,  but  from  anxiety  in  business  affairs,  which  were 
beginning  to  harass  him.  As  soon  as  he  perceived 
that  his  silence  affected  his  guests,  he  would  rouse 
himself  and  tell  how  he  had  spent  the  morning. 
Often,  still  filled  with  the  spirit  of  what  he  had  writ- 
ten, he  would  say  to  us,  as  to  a  comrade.  "  And  what 
have  you  done,  Lacretelle,  and  you,  Bruys."  He 
seemed  to  put  our  poor  lucubrations  into  the  same 
scale  with  the  effulgence  of  his  genius,  and  in  good 
faith  too,  for  in  his  estimation,  the  man  who  lifts  a 
handful  of  sand  for  a  noble  purpose,  is  as  worthy  of 
eminence  as  he  who  moves  a  block  of  marble.  Dur- 
ing his  conversation,  like  a  disciple  of  Brahma,  he 
would  help  himself  to  the  vegetables,  especially 
spinach,  and  pumpkin.  The  macaw  would  perch  on 


THE  HORSES. 


29 


the  shoulders  of  the  guests,  screaming  in  their  ears, 
and  claiming  his  share,  but  Lamartine  paid  no  more 
attention  to  him  than  to  the  others. 

One  of  our  party  always  arranged  the  excursion 
for  the  day,  making  it  long  in  prospective,  but  gener- 
ally we  were  obliged  to  wait  for  the  messenger  who 
brought  the  letters  and  papers  over  the  mountain, 
thereby  gaining  several  hours  over  the  regularpost,  and 
we  seldom  started  for  our  walk  before  three  o'clock. 

Invariably  after  breakfast,  Lamartine  carried 
bread  to  his  horses.  He  had  a  dozen  at  least, 
though  generally  of  little  value,  For  twenty  years, 
there  was  only  a  span  for  the  carriage,  and  a  pony 
for  the  saddle.  He  bought  his  horses  either  in 
the  country  near  by,  or  had  them  sent  from  Limou- 
sin. He  went  into  ecstacies  over  each  acquisition, 
the  animal  was  incomparable,  equal  to  the  mare  of 
the  Prophet,  and  an  enthusiastic  stanza  was  com- 
posed before  each  stall.  The  exaggeration  had  the 
merit  of  sincerity.  Lamartine  loved  his  Creator  in 
his  creatures.  His  life  had  been  spent  among  horses 
from  the  time  he  was  a  body-guard,  at  Beauvais,  up 
to  his  great  encampment,  in  the  desert  of  Syria. 
After  the  horse  review,  we  would  go  to  the  pavilion 
to  smoke  and  read  the  papers,  while  the  ladies  pre- 
pared for  the  walk  or  ride.  Mme,  de  Lamartine,  like 
all  Englishwomen,  was  a  skilful  horsewoman,  and 
taught  the  nieces. 


30  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

This  day  however,  the  political  news  was  unim- 
portant, and  the  papers  were  quickly  run  over,  and 
thrown  aside ;  Bruys,  and  Champvans,  were  obliged  to 
go  away,  so  Lamartine  decided  that  he  and  I  should 
go  to  Milly  on  horseback,  taking  the  path  over  the 
mountain,  while  the  rest  of  the  party  went  round  by 
the  regular  route,  in  the  carriage, 

I  knew  what  a  horse-back  ride  with  Lamartine 
under  these  conditions,  promised,  and  was  enchanted 
with  the  programme.  It  would  amount  to  this ; 
simply  to  take  the  horse  by  the  bridle,  and  walk 
beside  him.  When  I  am  in  the  stirrups,  I  like  to  run, 
but  a  few  experiences  with  M.  de  Lamartine  de- 
cided me  never  to  take  a  horse  when  I  went  with 
him,  for  then,  I  could  listen  better  to  him,  and  as  it 
were,  put  myself  more  completely  in  his  shadow. 

The  great  dog,  and  the  grey-hounds  followed  us. 
Lamartine,  though  the  least  sportsman  of  the  coun- 
try, carried  a  gun  slung  across  his  shoulders.  I  could 
not  understand  the  use  of  it,  even  after  he  explained, 
that  it  was  a  guarantee  against  an  encounter  (alto- 
gether improbable)  with  a  mad  dog,  for  I  truly 
believe,  that  this  duelist  of  other  days,  would  have 
hesitated  to  put  a  ball  into  the  brute,  if  he  had  met 
him. 

In  going  to  Milly,  one  is  obliged  to  leave  the  de- 
partmental route  at  once,  and  take  the  steep  moun- 
tain path,  which  leaves  the  Maconnais  behind.  The 


THE  ROAD   TO  MILL  Y.  3 1 

mountain  grows  more  and  more  wooded,  as  one  ap- 
proaches the  summit.  We  walked  through  cypresses 
grown  from  seeds  sown  by  the  wind  among  the  broom. 
Lamartine  often  stopped,  to  let  his  horse  nibble  the 
blades  of  grass,  on  the  roadside.  I  profited  by  these 
haltings,  to  question  him.  I  was  too  young  then,  to 
familiarly  turn  back  the  leaves  of  a  life  already 
covered  with  fame,  so  I  confined  myself  to  those 
questions,  that  would  be  likely  to  interest  him.  They 
were  enough  to  inspire  one  of  those  inexhaustible 
improvisations,  as  natural  to  him,  as  water  to  its 
source.  He  would  mount  his  horse,  *and  gallop  for  a 
little  while  without  any  apparent  motive,  dismount 
at  a  dangerous  place,  talking,  talking  all  the  while. 
I  followed  his  movements,  so  as  not  to  lose  a  word. 
I  was  transported  with  admiration  of  his  greatness, 
and  the  multifariousness  of  his  work,  and  yet  he  had 
not  then  written  "  Les  Girondins,"  nor  "  Les  Confi- 
dences," nor  "  Raphael,"  nor  "  Le  Civilizateur,"  nor 
pronounced  one  of  his  thrilling  discourses,  nor  made 
the  Republic. 

"  I  have  not  given  my  true  measure,"   said   he, 

"  nor  shown  how  much  I  am  worth.     I  would  like  to 

have  the  moving,  and  direction  of  my  government." 

"You  will  never  serve  under  the  Orleans?  " 

"  No,  nor  under  any  king.     There  are  many  who 

loved  the  Bourbons,  as  I  have,  because  we  mistook 

them    for    representatives    of  Liberty.     They  have 


32  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

wearied  us.  Their  race  will  preserve  upon  its  fore- 
head the  stains  of  blood,  shed  in  July.  My  ideas  all 
incline,  naturally,  to  an  efficient  domination." 

"  The  Republic?  "     I  asked,  almost  tremblingly. 

"  You  will  see  it,  once,  and  not  unlikely  twice," 
responded  Lamartine.  "  It  will  be  the  necessary  suc- 
cession of  Louis  Philippe.  I  am  only  twenty  years 
younger  than  he,  and  I  shall  be  an  old  man  when  he 
dies.  All  I  ask,  is  to  leave  behind  a  mould,  and  even 
if  the  statue  which  comes  from  it  should  be  quickly 
broken,  it  will  be  reproduced."  His  assuring  words 
excited  great  hope  in  me. 

"  For  to  return  to  what  you  call  my  physiogno- 
mies, I  am  not  known,  even  as  a  poet.  I  have  never 
made  but  one  poem,  and  that  is  lost." 

I  drew  nearer  to  him. 

"  The  poem  was  entitled  "  Les  Pecheurs,"  there 
were  twelve  thousand  lines,  very  superior  to  Jocelyn.'' 

"  How  happened  you  to  lose  it  ?  " 

"  I  had  taken  it  with  me  on  some  of  my  journeys, 
and  thought  that  I  left  it  in  a  trunk  in  the  attic,  at 
Saint-Point,  or  at  Monceaux,  but  I  have  searched 
every  where,  in  vain." 

"And  can  you  remember  nothing  of  it?" 

"  I  have  never  been  able  to  remember  one  verse 
of  Lamartine's.  They  do  not  enter  into  the  frame- 
work of  my  memory.  It  is  the  result  of  a  classical 
education  that  I  retain  only  those  of  Voltaire." 


THE  APPROACH  TO  MILLY.  33 

Then,  he  recited  one  of  the  lightest,  like  "  Les 
Fils  de  la  Vierge,"  but  less  pure. 

"  Perhaps,"  he  continued,  "  life  will  not  permit  me 
to  give  my  true  literary  character.  There  is  a  book 
ripening  slowly  in  me,  as  my  sun  goes  down.  I  shall 
call  it,  "  Psaumes."  The  least  unworthy  of  all  my 
thought,  will  be  found  there,  wrapped  in  verse,  and 
it  shall  be  my  will,  and  testament,  before  God,  in 
religion  and  politics.  If  any  of  my  works  float  on 
the  waves  of  time,  I  hope  it  will  be  this.  I  shall 
make  a  beginning,  and  write  a  few  verses  this  Au- 
tumn." 

He  never  did  it. 

Unceasing  action,  anxieties,  and  finally  childish- 
ness bowed  down  his  giant  intellect  in  his  declining 
years,  and  absorbed  the  book  that  would  have  sung 
in  future  ages,  like  the  psalms  of  David.  If  these 
great  thoughts,  sculptured  as  it  were  in  stone,  could 
have  been  scattered,  there  would  have  been  fewer 
materialists,  and  less  superstition  among  our  people. 
Politics  in  the  voice  of  such  an  apostle,  would  have 
become  a  religion,  and  the  Republic  would  have 
given  us  the  evangelists. 

We  began  to  descend  the  mountain  towards 
Milly.  At  the  left,  on  the  height,  rose  the  village 
church  of  Saint-Sorlin.  1  saw  the  little  house,  where 
people  said,  a  sweetheart  of  Lamartine's  had  once 
lived.  He  glanced  at  it,  but  said  nothing.  He 


34 


LAMART1NE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


pointed  to  a  meadow,  below  the  house,  between  the 
road  to  Macon  and  the  river. 

"  I  fought  a  duel  there,  once,"  said  he. 

"  With  whom  ?  "     I  asked,  hesitatingly. 

"  With  a  Polonais." 

I  did  not  dare  to  ask  another  question,  for  fear 
that  there  might  be  an  episode,  upon  which  he  would 
rather  be  silent. 

"  Have  you  fought  very  often  ?  "  I  said. 

"  O  yes.  All,  who  drew  breath  in  the  eighteenth 
century,  had  the  fever  of  duelling.  The  captains,  dis- 
missed by  the  Empire,  challenged  us,  at  every  cor- 
ner. I  stifled  my  duels  under  the  grass,  on  which 
they  were  fought.  The  only  celebrated  one  that  I 
ever  had  was  with  Pepe.  I  was  wrong,  in  generalizing 
an  accusation  which  pertained  only  to  the  common 
people.  They  were  avenged  by  a  man  of  honor,  who 
put  three  inches  of  steel  into  my  breast.  Since  then, 
General  Pepe  has  become  my  friend.  I  always  liked 
the  exercise  of  fire-arms,  and  fencing;  I  was  born  to 
move  the  masses,  and  I  would  rather  have  done  it 
by  the  sword,  than  by  the  word.  I  really  believe, 
that  I  should  have  been  a  captain  of  distinction.  I 
have  missed  my  vocation,"  he  added  smiling  sadly, 
"  but  God  has  ordered  my  life  better,  for  my  con- 
science." 

I  looked  at  him  intently,  while  he  thus  accused 
himself,  recalling  what  Victor  Hugo  had  said. 


M.  DE  CHAM  PEA  UX.  35 

"  I  would  have  been  a  soldier,  if  I  were  not  a 
poet,  "  and  my  mental  reflection  was,  that  human 
inferiority  was  to  be  found  even  in  men  of  genius. 

At  length,  we  reached  Milly.  One  of  the  gentle- 
men who  had  escorted  Mine,  de  Lamartine,  came  to 
meet  us.  This  was  M.  de  Champeaux,  who,  though 
not  appearing  in  his  character  as  secretary,  always 
accompanied  the  family.  He  was  a  count,  a  legiti- 
mist, attached  to  the  church,  and  a  man  of  great 
refinement.  Though  he  was  often  roused  with  in- 
dignation at  the  apparent  heresies  that  he  was  obliged 
to  copy,  yet  he  performed  his  task  conscientiously. 
Sometimes,  however,  his  frankness  exceeded  its 
bounds,  and  I  have  heard  him  criticize  severely  cer- 
tain doctrines  that  he  had  just  transcribed,  and  this, 
too,  before  the  master,  who  had  the  goodness  not  to 
be  irritated. 

Mme.  de  Lamartine  arrayed  herself  at  his  side  so 
far  as  the  dogma  was  concerned,  but  her  admiration 
for  her  husband  carried  her  far  away. 

The  fatigue  of  the  controversy  would  sometimes 
lead  Lamartine  to  make  concessions,  and  blemishes. 
M.  de  Champeaux  has  to  his  account  some  deplor- 
able modifications  of  text.  May  posterity  pardon 
him  !  He  was,  nevertheless,  faithful  unto  death  to 
Lamartine.  On  their  second  return  from  the  East, 
he  was  taken  suddenly  ill,  died  on  the  vessel,  and 
was  buried  at  sea. 


36  LAMA  H  TINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

"  The  ladies  are  waiting  for  you,  in  the  drawing- 
room,  "  said  he. 

Lamartine  urged  his  horse,  and  hastened  on  with 
a  beating  heart. 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  were  going  to  meet  my  mother, 
and  feel  once  more  her  kiss  upon  my  brow,  "  he  ex- 
claimed. "Milly!  This  is  the  Himalaya  of  my  happi- 
ness ! " 

I  had  never  seen  Milly,  or  rather,  I  had  never 
seen  it  except  through  the  splendor,  and  tenderness 
of  that  poem,  called,  "  La  Terre  natale."  The  name 
always  suggested  to  me  a  cheerful  smiling  landscape, 
with  a  house  outlined  against  the  sky,  supported  by 
angels,  like  the  house  of  the  virgin  which  was  borne 
by  celestial  agency,  until  it  found,  at  last,  a  resting 
place  at  Lorette.  My  angels,  only  had  an  existence 
in  the  stanzas  of  the  poet.  My  disenchantment  was 
complete.  The  framework  of  mountains,  enclosing 
Milly,  were  gloomy  and  sad,  without  being  pictur- 
esque. The  garden  or  quadrangle  was  so  small,  that 
a  cure  could  walk  to  the  end,  before  he  had  read 
more  than  half  a  page  of  his  breviary.  The  dwelling 
was  very  contracted,  and  looked  like  a  cottage  of  a 
poor  man.  There  was  not  the  action,  nor  cheerful- 
ness of  a  farm.  The  rooms  opened  into  each  other, 
under  festoons  of  spider-webs.  The  drawing-room 
was  almost  divested  of  its  furniture,  and  the  dust 
was  so  thick,  that  we  left  the  impression  of  our  feet 


YOUTHFUL  MEMORIES.  37 

on  the  floor.  Mme.  de  Lamartine,  and  the  nieces 
looked  cold  in  all  this  gloom,  and  I  was  indignant 
with  myself,  for  not  feeling  any  emotion.  But  in  a 
very  few  minutes,  all  was  transfigured.  Lamartine 
has  rarely  been  more  earnest  or  magnetic.  He  led 
us  through  the  house,  with  enthusiasm  in  every  look 
and  gesture.  He  showed  his  mother's  room,  his 
sister's  and  his  own.  There  was  a  story  to  tell  under 
each  door-way.  He  brought  again  to  life  the  beauty, 
and  songs  of  those  women,  though  two  of  them  had 
been  dead  twenty-five  years.  He  placed  his  mother 
at  her  work-table,  surrounded  by  her  little  family, 
and  his  father,  with  his  gun  upon  his  shoulder,  going 
to  his  vineyards.  He  showed  us  the  meadow,  where 
he  used  to  meet  Janette,  the  little  peasant,  he  inno- 
cently loved  through  the  medium  of  marguerites  and 
eglantine,  to  which  he  alludes  in  his  "  Memoires." 
He  made  himself  the  resurrectionist  of  his  youth,  of 
these  lifeless  bodies,  of  his  early  hesitations  and  pre- 
sentiments of  his  future  glory,  whose  first  echoes 
were  repeated  by  those  black  stones.  He  made 
Champeaux  weep,  who  ordinarily,  was  very  unim- 
pressionable, and  he  never  knew  a  prouder  moment 
than  when  at  our  departure,  an  old  vintager,  with- 
out removing  his  hat  said  to  him, 

"  Good  by,  Alphonse." 

I  went  away  from  Saint-Point  the  next  morning. 
I  took  courage  and  left  on  the  mantle-piece  of  my 


38  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

room  a  few  humble  verses  upon  the  bell  at  Saint- 
Point.  Two  days  later,  at  Bel-Air,  I  received  as  a 
response  and  encouragement,  that  despairing  but 
pathetic  hymn,  with  the  same  title  "La  cloche  de 
Saint-Point,  "  that  Lamartine  had  had  the  goodness 
to  dedicate  to  me. 


IV. 

The  Receptions  in  Paris. 

I  WANT  to  tell  of  Mme.  de  Lamartine's  recep- 
tions, at  Paris,  from  1837  to  1848.  In  those  few 
years,  which  were  long  enough  to  fill  twenty  existen- 
ces with  triumph,  wonder  and  tears,  there  was  pre- 
paring the  supreme  power  of  a  day,  comparative  dis- 
tress, ruin,  and  finally  abandonment.  The  household 
was  installed  in  apartments,  on  the  first  floor  of  No. 
82,  rue  de  1'Universite,  situated  between  a  court  and 
gardens.  The  maximum  rent  at  that  time  was  six 
thousand  francs,  and  it  represented  the  establish- 
ment of  a  nobleman.  The  stair-case  did  not  ascend 
higher  than  the  first  floor  in  this  wing  of  the  hotel, 
and  thus  the  sanctity  of  the  English  home  was  pre- 
served. 

I  will  endeavor  to  give  a  description  of  the  rooms, 
where  so  much  has  occurred  to  make  them  historic. 
Through  that  large  dining-room,  and  the  drawing- 
room,  with  its  great  divans,  and  the  studio  where 
there  was  always  a  fresh  painting  of  Mme.  de  Lamar- 
tine's  on  the  easel,  have  passed  and  repassed  politi- 
cal, artistic  and  plebian  Europe.  The  privileged  few 
have  opened  the  door  at  the  right,  and  discovered 


40  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

the  beautiful  cabinet,  where  Lamartine  never  worked, 
filled  with  books,  collections  of  harmless  poetry,  which 
had  been  presented  to  him,  newspapers,  and  public 
documents  of  the  Assembly.  They  have  also  been 
welcome  to  the  little  room,  where  Lamartine  slept, 
and  where  he  wrote,  in  the  early  morning,  and  where 
he  received  the  crowned  heads  of  the  world,  the 
thinking  heads,  I  mean.  They  can  also  recall  hang- 
ing in  the  studio,  the  portrait  of  the  poet,  with  his 
two  greyhounds  at  his  feet,  painted  by  Decaisnes, 
the  odor  of  Eastern  tobacco  which  permeated  every- 
thing, and  the  clear,  bright  fires  blazing  in  the  fire- 
place. 

Alas  !  who  now  inhabits  this  sanctuary  of  his 
glory  and  goodness,  despoiled  by  a  Revolution 
twenty-two  years  ago  ?  Who  has  felt  moved  to 
restore  within  those  walls  the  generous  hospitality  of 
Lamartine  ! 

At  this  epoch,  approaching  ruin  was  foreshadowed 
by  financial  anxieties.  An  elegant  style  of  living  was 
preserved,  although  there  never  was  an  expenditure 
of  more  than  forty  thousand  francs  a  year.  I  do  not 
include  the  charities,  which  doubled  the  disburse- 
ments. 

M.  de  Lamartine  brought  four  horses  to  Paris, 
two  for  the  carriage,  and  two  for  the  saddle.  The 
staff  of  domestics  was  very  modest.  There  were  no 
grand  dinners,  except  on  the  day  when  the  Republic 


POETRY  AND  POLITICS.  41 

of  Geneva  sent  a  famous  great  trout  from  Lake 
Leman.  Every  evening,  there  were  several  guests, 
who  came  by  chance  or  were  self-invited.  Lamartine 
often  went  for  a  horseback  ride  to  the  "  Bois  de  Bou- 
logne," returning  only  in  time  for  the  session.  This 
was  during  the  first  years  of  his  Parisian  life  before 
politics  completely  controlled  him.  Although  he  re- 
ceived his  friends  every  evening,  there  was  always  a 
little  more  ceremony  than  usual,  on  Saturday. 

Every  year,  he  gave  a  fine  concert,  and  a  lottery, 
for  which  the  charities  of  Mme.  de  Lamartine  served 
as  a  pretext.  But  his  secret  reason  was  to  create  an 
absolutely  necessary  occasion  for  writing  a  poem. 
He  wrote  now,  only  under  compulsion,  and  an  urgent 
occasion  was  afforded  by  the  lottery.  The  stanzas, 
fancifully  written  by  Lamartine,  and  enframed  in  ara- 
besques, were  the  principal  attraction.  Gold  was  spent 
freely  for  the  verses,  and  each  rhyme  assuaged  a  grief. 

While  telling  of  his  poems  of  this  time,  let  me 
note  one  singularity.  Lamartine  would  not  have 
read  one  of  them  in  public,  under  any  circumstances. 
He  assumed  that  it  would  destroy  his  political  influ- 
ence. He  rarely  went  out  in  the  evening,  and  seldom 
did  us  the  honor  of  coming  more  than  once,  during 
the  winter,  to  the  literary  reunions  held,  at  my 
father's.  It  was  there  where  Emile  Deschamps, 
Jules  Le  Fevre,  and  many  others  recited  their  first 
productions.  Victor  Hugo  read  to  us  "  Les  Rayons 


42  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

et  les  Ombres."  My  father  opened  the  poetical 
herbarium  of  his  old  age.  There  was  an  excellent 
public,  in  perfect  accord,  proud  of  having  among 
their  number  some  gifted  women,  who  threw  their 
acclamations  with  full  hands  at  the  laureate  of  this 
poetical  tournament. 

In  spite  of  supplications,  in  spite  of  smiles,  we 
could  never  obtain  a  single  line  from  M.  de  Lamar- 
tine,  and  God  knows,  how  happy  he  always  was  to  let 
us  breathe  in  the  spring-like  freshness  of  his  verse,  at 
Saint-Point,  or  at  Monceaux. 

At  Paris,  his  lips  opened  only  for  political 
speeches.  This  resolution  of  poetical  abdication  was 
affected.  He  made  a  mistake  in  granting  such  a 
concession  to  M.  Cunin-Gridaine. 

His  political  life  changed  him  a  little.  He  had 
always  the  same  exquisite  delicacy,  and  simplicity,  in 
a  "  tete-a-tete,"  but  in  public,  and  to  those  who  did 
not  know  him,  his  great  height  made  him  sometimes 
haughty.  He  carried  into  his  circle  of  polemists  and 
strategists,  the  manners  and  habits  he  had  adopted 
while  in  the  Legation.  Those  who  have  thought 

o  o 

him  supercilious,  have  only  seen  him  under  such  cir- 
cumstances, and  judged  him  superficially.  These 
delicate  shades  were  penetrable  by  his  friends,  who, 
after  the  preliminary  words,  saw  his  goodness  shining 
through  his  eyes,  and  gleaming  through  the  varied 
expressions  of  his  mouth. 


MONTALEMBER  T. 


43 


I  preferred  going  to  rue  de  1'Universite  the  ordi- 
nary evenings,  still  I  went  often  enough  on  Saturdays, 
to  be  able  to  give  a  few  sketches.  I  shall  forget 
much,  for  there  was  always  a  crush.  It  seems  to  me 
now,  that  every  one  upon  whom  the  sun  has  shone, 
has  been  there,  at  one  time  or  another,  During  the 
the  first  years,  I  met  Montalembert  several  times. 
This  man  drew  upon  himself  the  aversion  of  the 
democracy,  after  having  served  it.  We  only  half 
forgave  him  at  the  last,  on  account  of  his  hatred  for 

the  Empire,  and  his  love  for  the  Republic 

of  the  United  States. 

I  remember  him  as  quite  a  young  man,  without  a 
beard,  wearing  his  coat  buttoned  closely  to  his  throat, 
as  was  the  fashion  then,  and  as  M.  Laboulaye  wears 
his  now.  His  clerical  tendencies,  and  aristocratic 
pedantry,  then  quite  apparent,  held  me  at  a  distance, 
although  he  was  already  famous  for  a  libel  suit,  and 
distinguished  for  a  talent,  of  which  the  chamber  of 
Peers  recognized  its  revolutionary  side.  But  he  was 
too  much  in  the  church,  to  be  very  strong  in  Liberty. 
Much  as  I  have  admired  him,  I  have  never  been  sorry 
not  to  have  been  intimate  with  him.  Lamartine, 
who  was  so  impartial,  that  he  had  a  tendency  to 
praise  his  enemies,  seldom  met  him,  and  always  spoke 
of  him  with  antipathy.  Subsequently,  this  antipathy 
deepened  into  anger  against  Montalembert,  when  in 
March  1848,  he  attempted  to  rouse  Europe  against 


44 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


the  Republic,  putting  himself  at  the  head  of  the 
Polonaise  delegation  and  demanding  the  intervention 
of  arms.  Lamartine  never  failed  to  recall  this  epi- 
sode, during  the  innumerable  reactionary  explosions 
of  M.  de  Montalembert. 

Montalembert  caught  a  glimpse  of  truth,  under 
its  different  masks,  as  he  approached  the  tomb. 

It  is  said,  that  before  he  died,  in  speaking  of  the 
men  of  the  Low  Church,  he  exclaimed,  "  and  to  think 
that  I  have  sacrificed  forty  years  of  my  life  to 
them." 

In  one  corner  of  the  drawing-room  was  a  circle 
from  which  a  masculine  voice  confidently  launched 
forth  its  sharp  epigrams,  and  doubtful  anecdotes. 

It  belonged  to  Mme.  Sophie  Gay,  the  mother  of 
Mme.  Emile  de  Girardin,  who  inherited  much  of  her 
mother's  mental  vigor,  without  having  impoverished 
her. 

Mme.  Gay  wrote  romances,  of  trifling  value,  and 
recklessly  darted  her  words  like  lances,  which  always 
carried  against  the  adversaries  of  M.  de  Lamartine, 

o 

but  only  in  rue  de  1'Universite.  She  did  not  attract 
us  very  much  by  her  contralto  tones,  though  there 
was  no  need  of  approaching  her,  in  order  to  hear  her. 
Lamartine  detested  bitterness  of  speech,  and  would 
not  have  invited  her  so  frequently,  had  she  not  been 
the  mother  of  so  brilliant  a  daughter,  and  Mme.  de 
Lamartine  would  have  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  on 


MME.  DE  GIRARDIN.  45 

hearing  her  voice,  if  she  had  not  been  the  mistress 
of  the  house,  and  forced  to  give  her  approbation. 

The  daughter,  who  accompanied  her  during  many 
years  as  a  beautiful  Muse,  under  the  lights  of  the 
Restoration,  when  she  was  simply  Delphine,  often 
came  after  her  mother's  visits  had  ceased.  She  was 
more  remarkable  for  her  imagination  than  for  her 
poetry,  although  she  had  written  "  Judith,  "  which 
is  a  fine  drama.  Her  intelligence,  almost  amounted 
to  genius.  Her  conversation  would  have  made 
one  forget  that  she  was  a  woman,  if  her  beauty 
had  not  recalled  it  at  every  moment.  We  shall  find 
this  luxurious,  and  variable  nature  again,  at  Saint- 
Point,  where  we  can  study  it  leisurely.  I  shall  never 
forget  the  kindness  she  showed,  in  consecrating  a 
whole  number  of  the  "  Vicomte  de  Launay  "  to  some 
stanzas  that  I  sent  to  Victor  Hugo  upon  "  La  Place 
Royale."  She  often  met  the  old  General  Girardin  at 
Lamartine's,  who  listened  ecstatically  to  her,  and 
could  scarcely  be  restrained  from  announcing  that 
Delphine  was  his  daughter-in-law.  He  was  very 
proud  of  his  son  Emile,  as  the  Republic  has  been 
since,  and  as  Liberty  will  always  be. 

M.  and  Mme.  de  Circourt  usually  accompanied 
the  Girardins.  Mme.  de  Circourt  died  after  a  long 
illness,  through  which  she  did  not  lose  her  Muscovite 
wit.  Her  husband  still  lives.  He  knows  as  much  as 
if  he  had  passed  twenty  lives  in  reading,  and  he  pos- 


46  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

sesses  an  almost  supernatural  memory.  Dates,  facts 
forms  of  discourse,  and  typographical  order,  are  in- 
delibly engraved  upon  the  impressible  tissues  of  his 
brain.  He  is  never  more  happy  than  in  rendering  a 
service,  by  replying  to  no-matter-what  question  in 
the  most  elaborate  and  profuse  manner,  but  after  all, 
he  could  not  help  it.  Lamartine  used  to  say,  "  Cir- 
court  is  an  Alexandrine  library.  I  spend  my  life  in 
consulting  his  shelves,  and  in  trying  to  decipher  his 
papyrus." 

In  1848,  a  caprice  of  friendship,  or  of  aristocracy, 
decided  Lamartine  to  send  the  Count  de  Circourt,  as 
Ambassador  of  the  Republic  to  Washington.  He 
represented  it  loyally.  He  opened  his  case  of  diplo- 
macy, and  did  his  work  as  if  he  had  grown  old  in 
statesmanship.  Barnum  did  not  dare  to  propose  a 
a  salary  to  a  man  like  him.  If  he  had  he  would  have 
made  a  fortune  in  exhibiting  so  excellent  and  incom- 
parable a  phenomenon. 

Emile  Deschamps  was  one  of  the  most  constant 
visitors.  He  held  himself  at  a  distance,  and  tossed 
back  the  ball  to  Mme.  Sophie  Gay  and  Mme.  de 
Girardin,  only  it  rebounded  with  good-will  from  the 
hands  of  that  wonderful  juggler,  and  the  thought  pre- 
serving its  beauty  and  grace,  remained  pure,  and  har- 
monious. 

He  died  six  months  ago,  in  blindness,  at  Ver- 
sailles, carrying  only  one  regret  from  a  world,  where 


SA  TURD  A  Y  E  V EN  INGS. 


47 


he  had  had  so  much  happiness.  This  regret  was  for 
French  literature,  and  not  for  himself.  The  Academy 
had  not  condescended  to  nominate  this  most  refined 
writer,  this  Phidias  of  rhyme,  who,  though  not  living 
in  the  eighteenth  century  seemed  to  have  crossed 
every  one  of  its  literary  circles.  He  went  out  of  the 
world,  excluded  from  the  "  Palais  du  Pont  des  Arts," 
like  Balzac,  Beranger,  Lamennais,  and  Dumas,  who 
would  have  formed  with  him  a  whole  Academy,  and 
who  must  have  smiled  when  the  immortals  refused 
them  immortality. 

Vigny,  Alexandre  Soumet,  Guiraud,  Jules  Le 
Fevre,  abbe  Feletz  and  Briffaut,  often  came  there 
also.  Vigny  brought  his  "  chefs  d'ceuvres,"  like 
"  Stello,"  and  "  Le  Cachet  Rouge ; "  Soumet,  tragedies 
that  would  have  been  classic  in  the  future,  if  they  had 
been  less  so  at  their  first  representation  ;  Jules  Le 
Fevre,  those  poems,  whose  verses  were  so  luxuriantly 
interlaced,  like  the  branches  of  a  virgin  forest,  that 
their  very  vigor  produced  shades  and  coolness. 
Felitz,  whose  title  of  abbe,  served  only  to  dignify 
him  as  a  theatrical  critic,  was  a  master,  even  at  that 
epoch  of  imperial  obscurity.  Briffaut,  brought  a 
clericalism  of  *  ir:i  mstances,  imposed  upon  him  by  a 
pension,  which  did  not  hinder  him  from  writing  let- 
ters, bearing  a  strong  resemblance  to  those  of  Vol- 
taire. 

Jules   Janin,    whose    wit    and    intelligence    were 


48  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

scarcely  quicker  than  his  movements,  mounted  the 
stairs  every  Saturday.  He  was  then  only  in  the  tenth 
year  of  his  literary  reign.  At  each  Olympiad,  he 
renewed  his  oil  for  the  contest,  and  his  "  verve  "  as  a 
poetical  novelist.  He  possessed  in  the  highest  de- 
gree a  knowledge  of  good  taste,  and  the  most  ex- 
quisite and  flexible  expressions  of  our  language.  He 
was  grateful  for  admiration,  and  never  forgot  who 
had  moved  or  excited  him.  So  it  was,  that  through 
the  Empire,  he  never  failed  to  speak  with  the  most 
respectful  enthusiasm  of  Victor  Hugo,  the  grand 
exile  of  Guernsey,  nor  of  Lamartine  the  exile  of  the 
Interior. 

After  the  appearance  of  "  Lucrece,"  he  brought 
Ponsard  to  Lamartine,  who  received  him  with  that 
effusion,  which  soon  established  a  fraternity,  if  not 
equality.  This  was  almost  an  event.  Lamartine, 
Hugo,  Vigny  and  Sainte  Beuve  had  been  the  ac- 
knowledged leaders  of  "  1'ecole  romantique,"  to  which 
we  younger  men  all  belonged.  Our  instincts  drew  us 
towards  the  true,  and  beautiful,  and  we  made  our- 
selves the  servants  of  that  Shakespeare,  revealed  in 
the  splendors  of  "  Hernani,"  "  Marion  Delorme," 
"  Le  Roi  S'amuse,"  and  of  "  Ruy  Bias." 

The  classic  party  seized  some  of  the  beauties  of 
"  Lucrece,"  and  thought  to  avenge  its  own  interreg- 
num by  exaggerating  these  beauties,  and  opposing 
Ponsard  to  Hugo,  which  was  like  opposing  a  consti- 


PON  SARD. 


49 


tutional  prince  to  Charlemagne.  Our  romantic  faith 
was  one  of  the  expressions  of  our  love  for  Liberty. 
We  were  indignant  when  Lamartine  patronized  Pon- 
sard,  and  almost  accused  him  of  defection. 

Happy  epoch, — when  the  civil  war  was  only 
between  those  who  held  to  the  three  rules  of  compo- 
sition, and  those  who  wanted  to  depart  from  them  ! 

The  personal  qualities  of  the  man  and  poet,  after 
a  while,  made  us  pardon  the  favors  with  which  Lam- 
artine overwhelmed  Ponsard,  and  we  agreed  that  he 
was  not  wrong  in  extending  his  hand  to  a  laureate 
who  gave  promise  of  being  a  master. 

A  few  years  later,  Ponsard  held  a  high  position 
in  our  estimation.  He  took  his  gun  in  December, 
1851,  but  unhappily,  soon  after,  placed  it  in  the 
library  of  the  Senate.  He  exhausted  his  own  hero- 
ism in  the  characters  of  his  heroes.  He  only  knew 
how  to  be  an  Academician  of  great  talent,  and  tender 
heart,  and  this  is  why  so  many  mourn  for  him,  who 
died  so  young. 

The  attitude  of  the  Academy  towards  Lamartine, 
was  rather  peculiar.  Individually,  every  member  came 
to  the  receptions  of  their  illustrious  "  confrere,"  who 
conferred  upon  them  individually  a  continual  honor, 
of  which  as  an  association  they  were  very  jealous. 
To  be  a  member  of  the  Academy,  and  not  appear  at 
one  of  the  sessions  where  the  time  was  passed  in 
heated  discussions  over  a  dictionary, — a  labor  resem- 


5Q  LAM AR  TINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS, 

bling  the  tapestry  of  Penelope  ;  to  indulge  in  a  horse- 
back ride  every  day ;  to  travel  in  the  Orient,  and 
attract  the  attention  of  all  Europe  to  one's  tent  ; 
finally  to  effect  a  Revolution,  and  proclaim  a  Repub- 
lic was  a  code  not  found  in  the  manual  of  the  Cupola 
of  the  "  Pont  des  Arts."  The  Academy  protested 
officially,  by  epigrams,  and  each  guilty  composer  came 
Saturday  night,  to  get  absolution,  so  as  to  recom- 
mence the  next  Thursday  at  the  regular  reunion, 
Lamartine  willingly  repeated  the  epigrams,  and  they 
did  not  in  the  least  destroy  the  beauty  of  his  smile. 
The  most  bitter  assailants  were  the  most  indignant 
at  the  little  verse  of  Casimir  Bonjour  ;  but  to  be  in- 
dignant, they  were  obliged  to  bring  the  verse  back. 

Lamartine,  who,  during  the  session,  had  stood 
almost  alone  in  Parliament,  was  now  becoming  more 
and  more  necessary  to  the  opposition,  and  often  was 
its  leader.  Every  morning,  his  speeches  were  read  in 
every  house  in  Paris.  In  spite  of  his  reservations, 
one  felt  that  his  chest  was  large  enough  to  contain  the 
breath  of  a  Revolution.  The  court  was  not  ignorant 
of  this,  and  ministries  were  offered  to  him,  which  he 
refused.  The  whole  official  world  would  leave  every 
other  house  for  his.  Garneir-Pages  and  Ledru-Rollin, 
brought  M.  Mole  there.  All  the  legations,  and  for- 
eign travellers  of  note,  came  to  see  a  Parisian  assem- 
bly, which  was  at  the  same  time,  Athenian,  for  here 
were  formed  artists,  polemists,  peers  of  France,  mar- 


REPUBLICAN  VISITORS.  51 

quises  who  had  not  taken  their  oath,  and  where  the 
nuncio  risked  stepping  on  the  toes  of  Beranger. 
Mme.  de  Lamartine,  who  had  the  hospitality  of  an 
Arab,  went  from  group  to  group  with  cordial  greet- 
ings. When  Lamartine  wanted  a  congenial  spirit, 
he  found  it  in  the  corner  where  he  had  left  Voltaire. 
AH  the  conversations,  political  indiscretions,  and 
chance  encounters,  served  as  a  text  of  the  chroniclers 
for  the  following  week.  The  modest  lamps  of  that 
apartment  in  rue  de  1'Universite',  were  the  light- 
houses illuminating  intelligent  Paris,  and  this  lasted 
for  fifteen  years. 

The  sudden  advent  of  the  Republic,  brought  other 
groups  into  that  room.  Duchesses  were  replaced  by 
leaders  of  political  clubs.  Barbes,  in  the  enthusiasm 
of  his  chivalrous  nature,  often  came  seeking  encour- 
agement. Blanqui,  to  be  combatted,  and  disarmed. 
Deputations  came  crowding  in,  as  at  the  Hotel  de 
Ville. 

In  the  early  days  of  March  1848,  Lamartine  was 
obliged  to  install  himself  as  Minister  of  Foreign  Af- 
fairs. As  he  sat  down  in  M.  Guizot's  chair,  he  found 
his  own  name  written  on  a  sheet  of  paper,  and  the 
ink  scarcely  dry,  where  the  Minister  of  Louis  Philippe 
had  refuted  the  last  speech  of  Lamartine,  his  suc- 
cessor. 

During  the  existence  of  the  Executive  Commis- 
sion, Lamartine  lived  in  a  house  of  Madrid,  Bois  de 


52  LAM  A  R  TINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

Boulogne.  A  month  before,  France  would  have 
given  him  the  "Tuileries,"  by  acclamation,  but  he 
would  not  listen  to  an  impulse,  however  grateful, 
that  would  compromise  the  Republic. 


V. 


Society  at  Saint-Point. 

ONE  of  the  most  delightful  seasons,  that  I  can 
recall  in  that  luminous  life,  was  spent  at  Saint- 
Point.  There  was  a  host  of  visitors,  and  I  was  obliged 
to  take  refuge  in  an  old  house,  below  the  garden, 
which  had  once  been  a  presbytery.  Mme.  de  Girar- 
din,  M.  and  Mme.  D'Esgrigny,  Lafon,  and  his  daugh- 
ter, were  among  the  guests.  Two  nieces,  Mme.  de 
Pierreclos,  and  Mile.  Valentine  de  Cessiat,  who  was 
just  merging  into  womanhood,  aided  Mme.  de  Lamar- 
tine  in  doing  the  honors  of  the  house.  Mme.  de 
Pierreclos  was  the  widow  of  one  of  the  best  friends  of 
my  youth,  Count  Leon  de  Pierreclos,  who  died  in 
early  manhood.  He  was  a  poet  and  a  republican, 
rejoicing  in  the  almost  paternal  friendship  of  Lamar- 
tine.  Every  recollection  of  my  youth  brings  back  his 
name,  and  his  poems.  In  that  other  world,  under 
skies  concealed  by  fewer  clouds  than  ours,  he  guards 
apart  of  the  affection  he  carried  with  him.  His  wife, 
whose  esteem  I  value,  buried  herself  for  a  long  time 
in  an  almost  hopeless  grief,  from  which  the  vitality 
of  her  nature,  gradually  forced  her.  Her  brightness 


54  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

appeared  even  through  her  tears,  and  during  her 
sojourn  at  Saint-Point,  one  could  hardly  tell,  which 
was  the  more  dazzling,  Mme.  de  Pierreclos,  or  Mme. 
de  Girardin. 

Mile.  Valentine,  whose  beauty  unfolded  a  new 
enchantment  every  day,  was  already  beginning  her 
work  of  passionate  devotion  to  her  uncle,  which 
continued  unfaltering  through  his  life,  and  has  fol- 
lowed him  beyond  the  tomb. 

She  would  not  permit  Saint-Point  to  be  sold  at 
auction.  She  bought  it  in,  with  her  small  means, 
and  preserves  there  the  traditions  of  the  old  hospi- 
tality with  so  much  grace,  that  when  one  sees  her 
appear  upon  the  piazza.,  in  the  pale  light  of  the  sun, 
he  thinks,  for  a  moment,  that  the  family  must  follow, 
that  the  dead  will  leave  their  grassy  mounds  to  wel- 
come the  guest  as  in  days  gone  by. 

M.  'd'Esgrigny  made  a  place  for  himself  among 
this  illustrious  company.  He  was  so  sympathetic, 
that  a  long  conversation  was  necessary  to  perceive 
that  his  ideas  were  your  mortal  enemies.  Veuillot 
has  never  been  better  defended,  and  with  a  good 
taste  so  unlike  him,  that  we  always  came  out  of  the 
controversies  ashamed  of  having  been  charmed  by  a 
champion  of  the  Society  of  Jesus.  M.  de  Champeaux 
was  frightfully  distanced,  and  I  felt  obliged  to  fortify 
myself  in  my  republican  faith  with  M.  Ronot,  an 
enthusiastic  comrade  of  Lamartine's,  who  concealed 


LAFON. 


55 


a  delicacy    only  equalled  by   his  fidelity,  under    an 
attractive  good  nature. 

He  was  one  of  those  who  loved  Lamartine  and 
Liberty,  more  than  any  thing  else,  and  in  whose 
friendship,  Lamartine  rejoiced  for  half  a  century.  He 
had  the  happiness  to  die  before  the  Empire,  during 
the  greatest  expansion  of  the  Lamartinian  glory. 
His  son,  one  of  my  dear  friends,  continues  his  father's 
qualities  with  much  intelligence,  and  good  sense. 
He  has  administered  many  times  in  our  department 
as  intermediate  prefect. 

As  I  have  already  said,  Lafon  and  his  daughter 
were  among  the  guests.  We  could  not  explain  how 
he  had  succeeded  in  enchanting  a  whole  generation. 
Fanatics  liking  the  Toulousian  accent,  even  dared  to 
place  him  as  a  rival  to  Talma.  Without  much  urging, 
he  used  to  recite  to  us,  under  the  trees,  interminable 
and  somnolent  harangues,  which  often  came,  alas ! 
from  Racine,  and  Voltaire.  He  was  only  a  pompous 
declaimer,  with  a  warmth  which  had  become  reputa- 
tion because  it  was  a  continuous  flow. 

The  fact  of  his  success  remained,  in  spite  of  our 
impressions.  He  had  drawn  around  him  a  host  of 
admirers,  for  which  the  youth  of  the  tragedian,  and 
that  of  the  public  must  have  been  the  excuse.  He 
appeared  to  be  an  excellent  man,  whose  character  was 
unspoiled  by  the  mask  that  he  was  obliged  to  wear, 
and  he  was  more  proud  of  his  daughter  than  of  his  own 


56  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

fame.  There  was  a  smile  of  the  innocent  conscious- 
ness of  a  Watteau,  on  the  lips  of  the  daughter,  and  a 
charm  of  the  seventeenth  century  in  her  toilettes. 
She  painted  with  Mme.  de  Lamartine,  but  the  ideal 
heads,  delineated  by  her  pencils,  were,  certainly,  much 
less  beautiful  than  her  own. 

Dr.  Pascal  was  another  occasional  visitor.  Lam- 
artine often  speaks  of  him  in  his  writings,  as  the 
most  intimate  friend  of  his  youth.  He  had  had  a 
duel  with  Toussenel,  I  believe,  concerning  an  article 
in  the  "  Journal  de  Saone-et-Loire."  He  was  the 
firmest  and  most  refined  of  all  the  republican  circle. 
One  day,  Lamartine,  knowing  that  he  was  sick  and 
alone,  invited  him  to  come  and  die  at  Monceaux. 

He  did  so. 

I  was  thus,  in  the  midst  of  genius,  and  beauty. 
The  summer  days  were  spent  on  horseback,  or  in  the 
carriage,  and  the  evenings  filled  with  brilliant  con- 
versation and  harmonious  lyrics.  Often,  Lamartine 
took  us  for  a  walk  after  breakfast,  to  the  shade  of  a 
fine  forest,  to  the  borders  of  a  pond,  on  the  slope  of 
the  mountain,  which  he  still  owned.  Out  of  respect 
to  his  guests,  he  dressed  himself  with  care,  but  his 
clothes  soon  lost  their  freshness,  by  contact  with  his 
climbing  dogs  and  macaw. 

o  o 

One  day,  his  costume  presaged  something  un- 
usual. Mme.  de  Lamartine  anxiously  awaited  a 
revelation.  We  followed  him  along  the  path  lead- 


A  N  IMP  ROMP  T  U  PICNIC.  5  7 

ing  to  the  pond,  but  he  turned  aside  in  another  direc 
tion. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Alphonse,"  said  Mme.  de 
Lamartine. 

"  To  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  world,"  he  replied. 

We  descended  at  the  right.  The  dogs  preceded 
us,  and  were  waiting,  barking  vociferously.  At  the 
angle  of  the  road,  were  standing  the  two  horses,  har- 
nessed to  the  carriage  that  Lamartine  had  brought 
from  Vienna.  The  other  horses,  saddled  for  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  were  pawing  the  ground  impatiently. 
A  vintage  cart  was  laden  with  hampers,  overflowing 
with  hams,  bread  and  waffles, 

"What  does  this  mean?"  exclaimed  Mme.  de 
Lamartine. 

"  That  we  are  going  to  lunch  at  Chateau-Tiers," 
replied  her  husband. 

There  was  a  sensation  among  the  white  dresses. 
They  were  not  prepared  for  a  ride  on  horseback,  and 
the  evenings  in  the  valley,  were  always  chilly.  How- 
ever, one  could  not  very  easily  resist  one  of  Lamar- 
tine's  amiable  fancies.  He  had  foreseen  the  objec- 
tion. Shawls  and  wraps  filled  up  the  cart ;  there 
was  also  a  large  bag  of  money.  Our  curiosity  was 
much  excited, 

Was  he  going  to  announce  the  project  of  a  long 
journey?  And  to  what  country  ?  No  one  dared  to  ask. 

He   only   half  succeeded  in  forming   his  party. 


58  LAMA R  TINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

Mme.  de  Pierreclos  made  a  pretext  of  her  mourning, 
for  remaining  behind.  Mile.  Valentine  pleaded  a  les- 
son, that  she  must  give  the  children  of  Mme.  de 
Lamartine' s  school. 

Mme.  de  Lamartine,  Mme.  d'Esgrigny,  Mile. 
Lafon,  and  M.  Ronot  occupied  the  carriage.  Lam- 
artine mounted  Sapphyr.  Dr.  Pascal,  and  I  had  our 
own  horses,  and  after  the  saddles  had  been  changed, 
Lafon  and  M.  d'Esgrigny  took  the  horses  designed 
for  the  ladies,  Lafon  soon  adapted  his  tragic  dignity 
to  the  heavy  movements  of  his  Limousine  steed. 
We  followed  the  carriage  as  closely  as  possible. 
Lafon,  having  the  hams  before  his  eyes,  talked  of 
them  with  marked  graciousness.  It  was  a  premedi- 
tated flattery.  Lamartine  loved  to  discuss  the  culin- 
ary art.  The  same  lips,  on  which  floated  the  most 
charming  expressions,delighted  in  telling  classic  re- 
ceipts. He  developed  his  theory  of  hams,upon  which 
he  had  meditated  with  the  seriousness  of  Alexandre 
Dumas. 

"I  have  arranged  that  receipt  myself,"  said  he, 
"  and  it  will  outlive  '  Jocelyn.'  It  is  exquisite.  There 
are  five  or  six  poisons  in  the  composition.  Lady 
Stanhope  gave  me  one  of  them,  and  I  think  that  I 
brought  another  from  Smyrna,  it  is  the  one  that 
Mi thri dates  abused  so  much,  but  it  is  quite  harm- 
less. Have  you  ever  played  Mithridates,  Lafon  ?  I 
will  write  a  play  for  you,  so  that  you  may  eat  poison 


PROPHECIES. 


59 


every  evening,  and  truly  too,  before  an  enthusiastic 
public." 

"  What  do  you  call  your  poison,"  said  Dr.  Pascal, 
"  Let  me  know,  and,  perhaps,  I  can  explain  the  ner- 
vous malady  existing  in  you." 

"  My  poison  will  be  public  ingratitude,"  resumed 
Lamartine  now  becoming  serious.  "The  people  will 
raise  me  to  the  clouds,  where  Barthelemy  says  I  now 
live,  and  then  it  will  let  me  fall  into  its  mud." 

He  was  a  clairvoyant,  and  has  had  a  glimpse  of  the 
future.  We  respected  his  contemplation,  and  did  not 
reply.  He  soon  perceived  that  it  was  unseasonable, 
and  rallied.  M.  d'Esgrigny  like  a  man  of  good  taste, 
was  charmed  with  the  profile  Mile.  Lafon  presented 
to  us  from  time,  to  time,  as  the  carriage  turned  in  the 
road.  Lafon  responded,  by  praises  of  Mme.  d'Es- 
grigny, which  started  a  new  topic.  Lamartine  ap- 
proved, but  not  in  a  very  cordial  tone. 

"  I  have  never  found  true  beauty,  except  in  the 
Orient,"  said  he.  "  Do  not  believe  in  the  hyperboles 
of  my  poems.  Do  you  know  why  it  is  more  beauti- 
ful there,  than  elsewhere?  Because  it  is  combined 
with  goodness.  The  races  of  the  East  are  better 
than  ours.  They  have  not  that  quickness  of  intel- 
lect which  makes  the  eyes  sparkle,  while  it  is  incon- 
gruous with  the  lips.  The  women  of  the  East  wear 
the  expression  of  their  captivity ;  sadness  in  its  su- 
premest  sense.  They  are  only  the  flowers  of  pleas- 


6o  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

ure,  and  are  swayed  by  all  the  breezes  that  waft  you 
to  them.  I  shall  never  forget  my  passage  among 
the  Grecian  isles.  My  vessel  was  announced,  and  I 
was  an  emir  there.  The  men  came  to  meet  me,  in 
the  boats,  and  the  women,  in  their  beautiful  bare  feet, 
gathered  together  on  the  river  banks,  while  the 
young  children  hid  among  the  fig-trees,  and  vines. 
What  I  breathed  of  peace,  romance,  and  fancy,  I 
could  not  tell  in  a  poem  of  twelve  thousand  lines. 
There  were  daughters  of  Corfu,  of  Mount  Tayjette, 
of  Cerigo,  and  of  Cithera.  My  eyes  will  never  see  a 
more  ravishing  sight,  even  should  they  open  in  the 
Prophet's  Paradise.  Do  not  talk  to  me  of  the  women 
of  the  West." 

"  But  what  of  Elvira?  "  asked  Mme.  de  Girardin, 
who  had  heard  the  conversation  from  the  carriage, 
and  whose  feminine  pride  was  touched. 

"  Alas  !  you  have  not  been  Elvira,"  said  Lamar- 
tine  in  a  low  tone.  "  If  you  had  been  !  " 

"  You  would  have  had  still  more  enthusiasm  for 
the  shepherdesses,"  replied  Delphine. 

We  arrived  at  Chateau-Tiers. 

We  sought  in  vain  for  the  promised  marvel. 
There  was  a  ruin  of  no  positive  character.  The 
house,  comparatively  modern,  was  bounded  by  a 
landscape  restricted  and  uncolored,  like  the  Charolais 
generally.  There  was  a  wing  of  the  Chateau,  of  the 
time  of  Louis  XIV.  a  tower  springing  from  the  old 


JANETTE  6 1 

wall  of  the  enclosure,  and  the  remains  of  a  French 
garden, — and  nothing  more. 

We  could  not  permit  ourselves  not  to  be  charmed, 
and  in  fact,  we  were  going  to  be. 

Lamartine  had  a  powerful  motive  for  bringing  us 
here  and  unloading  the  cart,  for  ordinarily,  he  had  a 
horror  of  dinners  on  the  grass.  He  chose  a  place  in 
the  corner  of  the  orchard,  pleasantly  shaded  by 
willow  trees.  The 'groom  brought  water  from  the 
well  in  the  court,  where  there  was  a  little  farm-house 
built  against  the  ruin.  The  china  sparkled  in  the 
sun.  The  waffles  had  crumbled  on  the  way,  and 
were  spread  in  golden  fragments  on  the  grass.  Lam- 
artine commenced  carving  the  hams.  A  woman 
about  fifty  years  of  age,  stout,  and  still  handsome 
under  the  grey  hair  escaping  from  her  cap,  came  out 
of  the  farm-house,  bringing  a  great  loaf  of  brown 
bread,  and  a  jug  of  foaming  milk.  She  saluted  the 
company,  but  when  with  lowered  eyes,  she  passed 
Lamartine,  she  blushed. 

"  Good  morning,  Janette.  Do  you  not  recognize 
me  ?," 

"  O,  yes  sir !  but  it  is  a  long  time  since  the  mig- 
nonette faded,  "  she  replied. 

"  And  you  live  here  with  your  children.  How 
many  have  you  ?  " 

"  Six, "  said  she  with  pride. 

"  Let  us  go  and  see  the  ruins.     There  is  noth- 


62  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

ing  more  to  be  seen  here,"  interrupted  Mme,  de 
Lamartine,  upon  whose  nerves  this  conversation 
grated. 

•'  The  ruins  have  their  price,  "  said  M.  Ronot, 
laughingly,  to  Dr.  Pascal.  "  There  is  no  need  of 
disturbing  ourselves,"  Lamartine  rejoined  dipping  a 
piece  of  brown  bread  into  his  milk.  "  I  want  to  tell 
you  what  I  know  about  the  chateau.  My  uncle,  the 
abbe  de  Lamartine,  often  came  here  in  his  younger 
days,  and  he  has  told  me  a  great  deal  about  it.  The 
fief  was  inherited  by  the  beautiful  Mile,  de  Chateau- 
Tiers,  who  never  married.  She  led  a  very  gay  life 
here.  The  nobility  used  to  come,  on  their  fine 
horses.  Mass  was  celebrated  every  day,  in  the  little 
chapel,  which  was  on  this  side." 

"  You  know  nothing  of  your  ancient  history, '' 
interrupted  Mme.  Girardin.  "  I  have  never  heard  of 
Chateau-Tiers,  and  consequently,  I  can  tell  better 
than  you,  what  they  did  here,  having  for  a  foundation 
the  prolonged  celibacy  of  the  noted  beauty.  Remain 
a  Demosthenes,  and  do  not  try  to  be  a  Tallemant  des 
Reaux,  it  is  not  your  fate.  If  Mile.  Lafon  will  go 
in  search  of  periwinkle,  with  Mme.  d'Esgrigny,  I 
shall  feel  more  at  liberty  to  -talk,  without  fear  of 
shocking  their  modesty." 

"  I  converse  with  Veuillot,  every  day,  "  said  Mme. 
d'Esgrigny,  "and  my  daughter  never  misses  an 
evening  of  French  Comedy." 


MME.  DE  GIRARDIN'S  STORY.  63 

"You  will  certainly  never  speak  in  that  language, 
Madame,  "  said  Lafon. 

"  Well,  then, "  resumed  Mme.  Girardin,  "  the 
summons  to  mass  sounded  every  morning,  in  the 
chapel,  and  this  is  the  way,  they  went  to  it.  The 
little  Chevalier  de  Berz6  ....  is  there  a  Berze  in 
your  province,  Lamartine  ?  " 

"  There  is." 

"  The  little  Chevalier  had  won  twenty  louis  the 
night  before  at  a  game  of  cards,  which  was  prolonged 
so  late,  that  in  the  darkness  he  was  deceived  in  find- 
ing his  room,  and  unhappily  was  obliged  to  spend 
the  night  in  Mile,  de  Chateau-Tiers'  vestibule,  essen- 
tially incommoding  the  abbe  de  Lamartine,  who  wa,s 
forced  to  cross  the  vestibule  in  the  morning.  We 
will  notice,  that  this  vestibule  had  only  two  doors, 
the  one  belonging  to  Mile,  de  Chateau-Tiers,  and 
the  other  that  by  which  the  Chevalier  had  entered. 
Mile,  de  Chateau-Tiers,  a  little  languishing,  like  a 
rose  that  had  slept  badly  from  having  listened  too 
long  to  a  nightingale,  appeared  at  the  window,  to 
powder  her  chesnut  curls. 

"The  marquis  of  Pierreclos,  who  had  been  on  the 
mountain  to  kill  a  hare,  was  resting  under  a  pavilion. 
He  was  hunting  for  violets,  and  found  a  "  femme-de- 
chambre."  The  horses,  ready  for  the  chase,  were 
impatiently  prancing  in  the  stable-yard.  The  dogs 
were  whining,  and  the  horns  had  sounded.  The 


64  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

cooks  were  plucking  the  fowls.  The  little  daughter  of 
Pere  Mazoyer  was  coming  up  the  path,  leading  her 
donkey,  which  bore  the  tithe  belonging  to  Mile,  de 
Chateau-Tiers.  Still  the  summons  continued  to 
sound,  and  go  they  must.  They  did  not  get  there 
until  after  the  elevation,  which  made  the  officiating 
priest  swear. 

"The marquis  de  Pierreclos  took  a  chair  next  to 
Mile,  de  Chateau-Tiers,  and  in  a  low  tone,  proposed 
marriage  to  her.  Glancing  at  the  said  abbe  de  Lam- 
artine,  she  refused.  The  abbe"  was  talking  in  a  still 
lower  tone  to  the  chevalier. 

"  What  were  you  doing  in  the  vestibule  ?  " 

"  I  was  playing  checkers,  I  had  found  a  checker- 
board." 

"  Do  you  play  with  foils  as  well  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  Without  guards?" 

"  Most  assuredly," 

"  Very  well,  then.  At  five  o'clock  behind  the 
orchard  wall." 

"Agreed:  but  remember,  if  I  draw  a  pint  of 
blood  from  you,  you  will  pass  a  night  in  the  vestibule, 
and  only  there." 

"And  this  is  the  way  they  heard  mass  at  Chateau- 
Tiers,  and  I  hope  that  M.  Villemain  will  never  again 
give  me  the  Monthyon  prize  for  the  purity  of  my 
verse,  if  I  have  in  the  least  overdrawn  the  picture." 


THE  SECRETARY  OF  STATE.  65 

Lamartine  merely  bowed.  He  hated  an  indeli- 
cacy or  innuendo  from  the  mouth  of  a  lady,  but  this 
time  his  look  was  a  little  unjust,  for  Mine,  de  Girar- 
din  had  related  her  story  with  a  good  deal  of  inspira- 
tion and  eloquence. 

He  said  ; 

"  The  seventeenth  century  was  hardly  responsible. 
It  was  an  interregnum  of  God.  The  devil  reigned." 

"  The  devil  was  called  Voltaire,"  interrupted  M. 
d'Esgrigny. 

"  Or  rather,  Louis  XV."  said  Dr.  Pascal. 

Mme.  de  Girardin  opened  her  beautiful  eyes,  in 
astonishment,  upon  Lamartine. 

"  Do  you  believe  in  the  devil?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"A  little.  God,  that  is,  Sovereign  Reason,  at 
that  time,  spoke  only  through  two  men,  Rousseau  and 
Voltaire,  more  especially  through  Rousseau,  how- 
ever. The  spirit  of  evil  was  Master.  When  I  weigh 
carefully,  the  injustices,  the  human  monstrosities 
the  subversion  of  morality,  the  absurdities  of  true 
history,  I  am  persuaded  that  God,  after  that  battle 
between  good  and  evil,  the  result  of  which  no  one 
has  ever  known,  abandoned  several  centuries  of  our 
planet  to  Satan,  or  Eblis,  and  that  the  men  of  that 
epoch  were  governed  by  laws  emanating  directly  from 
evil.  Lucifer  was  Secretary-of-State  !  " 

"  But  your  theory  is  horribly  blasphemous  !  " 
said  Mme.  de  Lamartine. 


66  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

"  Blasphemous  !  No  !  And  what  does  it  matter  ! 
Human  speech  cannot  attain  to  God.  He  permits 
times  of  strongest  temptations,  but  he  meets  out  a 
recompense.  Those  who  have  fought  the  battle  of 
life  here,  are  gathered  into  another  sphere  after  death, 
perhaps  into  a  paradise.  I  do  not  know.  Truth,  the 
irrfallible  light  of  order,  and  justice,  appears  to  them 
for  a  season.  Then,  their  eyes  are  closed  again  to 
this  light,  and  they  fall  in  other  battles,  and  so,  into 
other  spheres,  under  other  suns,  with  other  trials  and 
proofs,  but  always  of  work,  which  is  the  supreme 
law,  and  the  highest  happiness.  God  is  no  more 
eternal  than  man,  but  He  is  conscious  of  his  Eternity. 
But  I  am  wearying  Mile.  Lafon,  and  we  have  wan- 
dered far  away  from  Chateau-Tiers.  Let  us  return." 

Then  taking  the  arm  of  the  pretty  Mile.  Lafon,  he 
led  her  across  the  broken  walls.  We  went  into  the 
old  garden,  with  the  other  ladies.  Soon  after,  I 
escaped  with  my  cigar  into  the  old  tennis  court. 
There  was  a  broken  window  looking  out  upon  the 
farm  yard  and  I  heard  Lamartine's  voice.  I  had 
been  sadly  reflecting  his  last  words,  and  for  the  first 
time  in  my  life,  was  irritated  with  him.  This  con- 
cession to  the  existence  of  a  devil,  did  not  belong  to 
him.  Probably,  it  had  been  imposed  upon  him  in 
his  youth,  by  one  of  those  charming  Jesuits  he 
speaks  of  in  his  "  Memoires,"  and  for  whom  he  has 
altogether  too  much  indulgence.  He  often  alluded 


JANNETTE.  67 

to  it  afterwards,  but  I  always  observed  that  it  was 
during  his  extreme  sufferings.  Not  daring  to  accuse 
God,  he  created  a  devil  out  of  respect,  impossible  as 
it  was. 

Even  in  the  fertile  and  well-cultivated  field  of  this 
great  intellect,  some  of  the  enemy's  tares  had  fallen. 

I  glanced  out  of  the  window  into  the  farm-yard, 
Lamartine  had  taken  the  bag  of  money  from  the  cart. 
The  farmer's  wife  was  standing  near  him. 

"  Hold  up  your  apron,  Janette,  as  you  used  to  do 
when  I  threw  the  flowers.'' 

This,  then,  was  the  Janette  of  his  "  Memoires," 
the  first  rural  love  of  the  youth,  at  Milly. 

Her  eyes  shone  with  tears  as  she  looked  at  him. 
She  was  beautiful  in  the  illumination  of  the  past. 
She  saw,  again,  the  handsome  young  man  from  over 
the  mountain,  and  heard,  again,  his  promise,  that  her 
image  alone  should  dwell  in  his  heart.  Holding  up  her 
apron,  like  one  who  had  never  known  how  to  refuse 
him  anything,  she  received  the  shower  of  silver  that 
he  poured  into  it.  There  must  have  been  two  thou- 
sand francs. 

"  This  will  buy  the  conscription  of  your  son.  Do 
not  speak  of  it  to  any  one,  especially,  Mme.  de  Lam- 
artine." He  bent  down  and  touched  the  grey  hair 
with  his  lips,  as  he  had  so  often  done,  long  years 
before.  Then  he  walked  away  whistling  to  his  dogs. 
The  whole  man  was  there.  No  one  had  ever  been 


68  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

more  beloved  than  he.     Every  day  there  came  letters 
full  of  declarations  of  love,  to  which  we  were  obliged 

o 

to  reply.     He  conversed  with  all  Europe. 

His  fame  was  an  uninterrupted  intoxication,  and 
still,  when  his  house  was  full  of  charming  people,  he 
had  remembered  this  old  love,  living  in  the  country. 
He  had  even  dissimulated  for  the  sake  of  helping  her, 
and  had  pushed  his  flattery  to  that  point,  of  asking 
her  not  to  speak  of  the  interview  to  Mme.  de  Lam- 
artine. 


VI. 


The  " Bien  Public" 

IT  WAS  a  little  while  after  this,  that  Lamartine 
desired  to  found  a  newspaper  for  himself.  His 
political  individuality  was  becoming  the  most  impor- 
tant in  the  Assembly.  His  voice  drew  about  him 
enthusiasts.  He  had  already  given  his  grand  speeches 
upon  the  regency,  the  fortifications  of  Paris,  and  the 
abolition  of  capital  punishment.  His  very  whisper 
was  causing  a  movement  in  the  tide  of  public  opinion. 
Outside  of  France,  the  world  read  Lamartine. 

He  did  not  want  to  establish  a  political  organ  in 
Paris,  believing  that  his  power  would  be  more  effec- 
tive if  he  placed  the  tribune  at  a  distance.  He  made 
the  trial  through  me.  Pelletan  was  starting  the 
"  XIXe  Siecle,  "  in  Paris.  Lamartine  did  not  think 
it  wise  to  write  for  the  paper,  but  he  liked  Pelletan 
so  much,  that  he  proposed  to  me  to  undertake  the 
responsibility  of  the  authorship. 

'  One  day  in  November,  while  walking  up  and  down 
the  gallery,  at  Monceaux,  he  gave  me  an  idea  of  an 
article  upon  the  statesmen  of  the  government  of  July. 

In  tracing  the  outline,  he  really  gave  me  the 
whole  article,  and  under  the  pretext  of  taking  notes, 


7O  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

I  wrote  almost  from  his  dazzling  dictation.  A  week 
later,  I  carried  the  article  to  Pelletan,  without  indi- 
cating its  source,  as  I  had  been  commanded.  Peile- 
tan,  doubtless,  suspected  its  origin,  and  not  to  startle 
his  readers  by  a  too  attractive  decoy,  had  the  cour- 
age to  refuse  it.  He  will  know  now,  what  associate 
he  refused,  and  will  forgive  this  historical  indiscretion. 
It  was  Pelletan  who  afterwards  gave  Lamartine  so 
many  proofs  of  passionate  devotion,  and  who  has 
given  to  the  religion  of  democracy  so  many  testi- 
monies of  faith,  and  courage,  and  who,  without  ceas- 
ing to  be  entirely  himself,  re-appears  in  the  spirit, 
eloquence,  and  courage  of  his  son  Camille  Pelletan. 

Lamartine  wrote  to  me  in  August  1843,  propos- 
ing the  honor  of  being  one  of  the  founders  of  the 
"  Bien  Public." 

He  asked  me  to  bring  with  me,  my  good  neighbor 
Hippolyte  Boussin,  who  subsequently  entered  deeply 
into  the  intimacy  at  Monceaux. 

I  was  to  find  at  Saint-Point,  Bruys  d'Ouilly ; 
Champvans;  Adolphe  de  La  Tour,  our  judicious 
friend  from  Paris  ;  Dureault,  who  had  been  deputy  of 
the  opposition  ;  Garnier-Lacombe  who  suffered  per- 
secution during  the  Restoration  ;  Versaud,  an  honor- 
able merchant  ;  and  Charles  Rolland,  whom  I  did 
not  then  know,  but  who,  in  spite  of  his  youth,  was 
already  talked  of  as  Mayor  of  Macon.  For  the  past 
twenty  years,  Rolland  and  I  have  walked  in  parallel 


THE  CAUSE  OF  THE  REVOLUTIONS.  71 

paths,  and  our  hands  have  often  met  over  the  short 
distance  between  us,  as  our  votes  have  mingled  in 
the  National  Assembly,  in  spite  of  the  almost  imper- 
ceptible line  of  separation.  I  do  not  think  that  I 
have  omitted  to  mention  one  of  those  men,  who,  for- 
tifying each  other  fora  work  of  democratic  devotion, 
and  foreseeing  the  Republic  beyond  those  years  still 
remaining  of  the  reign  of  Louis  Philippe,  desired  to 
unite  their  hopes  in  one  indestructible  bond. 

Lamartine  very  rapidly  unfolded  his  views.  He 
did  not  have  to  persuade  us.  He  did  not  hide  from 
us  the  fact,  that  we  were  to  create  an  annual  necessity 
of  pecuniary  sacrifices,  and  made  us  see  what  was 
worth  more  than  a  little  gold  scattered  by  the  way, 
the  sentiment  of  Liberty  that  we  should  awaken  in 
the  hearts  around  us. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  all  these  Revolutions 
for  the  last  sixty  years  ?  "  said  he  to  us.  "  It  is  the 
pursuit  of  a  single  idea,  and  these  changes  are  only 
the  different  phases  of  a  single  Revolution.  France 
wants  a  rational  government,  that,  without  distinction 
of  classes,  calls  to  the  conduct  of  power  men  who  are 
most  elevated  by  intelligence,  and  character.  She 
wants  a  government  that  will  spread  its  benefits  over 
the  entire  society.  She  wants  to  apply  to  politics 
the  doctrine  of  social  charity.  So  long  as  this  end 
is  not  attained,  so  long  will  Revolution  follow  its 
course,  stormy  or  calm,  according  to  the  obstacles 


72  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

or  facilities  it  finds  in  its  passage.  Let  us  make  a 
harbor,  where  she  may  deposit,  not  tumultuous 
ideas,  but  living  truths,  and  upon  their  accretions,  as 
on  those  of  the  Nile,  we  will  cultivate  the  harvests 
of  Liberty." 

He  continued  talking  in  this  way  for  a  long  time, 
always  walking  on  the  balcony,  and  sending  his  words 
to  us  through  the  windows  of  the  salon.  The  ora- 
tion was  magnificent,  and  we  had  no  need  of  inter- 
rupting it,  for  our  resolutions  had  been  taken  in 
advance,  and  we  voted  unanimously  for  the  founda- 
tion of  the  newspaper.  Each  of  us  took  shares  for  a 
thousand  francs,  and  Lamartine  alone,  ten  thousand. 
It  was  evident,  that  this  fund  was  only  a  prelude. 
But  Lamartine  was  going  to  write  for  the  paper. 
Editors  were  giving  fifty  thousand  francs  for  a  single 
work  of  his.  His  name  seemed  like  an  assured  for- 
tune, though  he  did  not  allude  to  it.  As  it  will  be 
seen,  it  proved  our  ruin. 

Champvans,  for  the  past  year,  had  been  on  the 
editorial  staff  of  the  "  Journal  de  Saone-et-Loire," 
where  he  proclaimed  the  policy  of  Lamartine.  He 
was,  therefore,  appointed  Editor-in-chief,  and  for 
three  years  acquitted  himself  ably  and  conscien- 
tiously. In  1848,  he  was  recompensed  by  the  pre- 
fecture of  Ain,  and  elected  representative.  Soon 
after,  he  boldly  accused  Lamartine  of  forgetfulness, 
and  to  our  utter  consternation,  went  over  to  the  re- 


THE  DUKES  VISIT.  73 

actionists.  It  will  be  unjust  not  to  remember  that 
he  gave  the  best  years  of  his  life  to  truth,  and  I  do 
not  think  it  will  be  distasteful  to  him,  since  he  has 
gone  so  far  towards  the  shady  horizon,  if  I  recall  to 
him  so  courageous  and  happy  a  period. 

The  "  Bien  Public,"  made  a  great  sensation  from 
its  first  appearance.  All  the  newspapers  reproduced 
the  articles  they  recognized  as  Lamartine's,  who,  in 
this  way,  fed  the  whole  press.  I  will  give  a  few  ab- 
stracts, which  would  have  been  an  honor  to  any 
polemist,  had  he  not  happened,  at  the  same  time  to 
be  a  poet,  orator,  historian  and  chief  of  thegovernment. 

September  23d,  1843,  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of 
Nemours  stopped  at  Macon.  Lamartine  gave  an 
account  of  their  visit,  in  a  long  article  which  he  ter- 
minated thus, 

"  On  the  whole,  the  weather  was  very  fine,  the 
prince  affable  and  modest,  and  the  princess  pleasing. 
The  functionaries  have  been  reserved  in  their  expres- 
sions, the  people,  respectful,  and  public  sentiment 
cold.  Everybody  did  his  duty,  and  nothing  more. 
Yesterday  morning,  when  at  the  salute  of  the  cannon, 
the  young  travellers  went  on  board  the  gaily  decora- 
ted boat  that  was  to  take  them  to  Lyons,  nothing 
had  changed  the  feeling.  A  prince  and  princess  had 
passed.  That  was  all.  One1  carried  away  with  him 
the  esteem  of  thoughtful  men,  the  other,  the  admira- 
tion of  all  who  beheld  her. 


74  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

"  But  the  situation  is  the  same.  The  government, 
and  the  country  are  not  especially  affected,  nor  are 
they  better  understood. 

"  The  river  flows  on,  as  it  did  the  night  before, 
and  Time  is  going  where  it  went  yesterday." 

In  replying  to  "  La  Reforme,"  Lamartine  wrote 
under  one  of  his  oratorical  inspirations. 

"  If  the  National  Assembly  could  come  out  of  its 
grave  to-day,  and  find  itself  in  the  presence  of  its 
work,  thus  disfigured,  who  is  there  among  its  states- 
man, who  would  recognize  the  Revolution  in  your 
hands  ?  From  reaction  to  reaction ;  from  corrup- 
tion to  corruption  ;  from  fear  to  fear  ;  from  pretext 
to  pretext ;  what  principle  have  you  left  standing  ? 
Instead  of  democracy,  an  oligarchy ;  instead  of 
equality,  an  electoral  nobility  ;  instead  of  a  magis- 
terial royalty,  a  dynastic  royalty;  instead  of  the  free 
press,  the  laws  of  September  ;  instead  of  association, 
prohibition  to  assemble  ; -instead  of  an  emancipated 
religion  living  from  the  altar,  religious  quarrels,  and 
denominations  disputing  for  the  budget ;  instead  of 
properties  divisible  to  infinity,  properties  of  mort- 
main, increasing  every  day  in  the  hands  of  corpora 
tions,  and  disinheriting  families  ;  instead  of  labor,  and 
free  industries,  France  is  sold  to  capitalists  ;  instead 
of  the  moral  and  movable  supremacy  of  intelligence, 
the  supremacy  of  imposts  and  the  sovereignty  of  the 
glebe  and  patent !  " 


LA  REFORME. 


75 


In  an  apostrophe  to  "  La  Reforme,"  of  October, 
26,  1843,  ne  writes, 

"The  French  Revolution  is  a  good  spiritualism 
in  action  ;  its  work  is  to  substitute  everywhere,  mind 
for  matter,  right  for  force,  putting  man,  where  the 
ancients  put  things.  The  Revolution  is  an  outflow 
from  a  Christian  source.  Those  who  see  it  in  a  Con- 
stituent Assembly;  those  who  see  it  only  in  the  Con- 
vention ;  those  who  would  like  to  see  it  only  in  the 
Institutions  of  July,  are  equally  mistaken.  Its  first 
name  was  Liberty  ;  its  second  was  Equality ;  and  its 
last  shall  be  Charity.  The  Constituent  Assembly  is 
only  its  principle  ;  the  Convention  is  only  its  Anger, 
and  the  Government  of  July  shall  be  its  repentance. 
Will  "  La  Reforme  "  understand  this?  ' 

Five  years  later,  the  editor,  to  whom  Lamartine 
had  thus  replied,  was  his  friend  and  colleague  in  the 
Provisionary  Government,  and  Lamartine  was  often 
obliged  to  reassure  the  republican  faith  of  this  honest 
man,  who  was  alarmed  by  the  clamors  of  the  riots, 
which  he  thought  were  incompatible  with  universal 
suffrage. 

It  was  in  August  1844,  that  the  "  Bien  Public" 
recounted  the  little  episode  ofabb£  Thyons.  Champ- 
vans,  who  has  since  then  prostrated  himself  before 
the  church,  had  not  then  taken  up  arms  against  her 
for  the  first  time.  He  could,  therefore,  meet  the  cure1 
of  Chanes  with  a  clear  conscience,  and  true  disinter- 


76  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

estedness.  Lamartine's  articles  upon  the  State,  the 
Church  and  Instruction  were  inflaming  public  opinion. 
The  Bishop  of  Autun,  to  counter-balance  the  influ- 
ence of  these,  demanded  letters  of  adhesion  from  his 
clergy.  There  is  no  doubt,  but  that  Champvans 
counselled  his  friend  to  refuse  his  signature.  The 
priest  listened  to  his  advice,  and  wrote  to  the  Bishop. 
The  eloquent  letter  had  undoubtedly  been  attentively 
read  by  Lamartine,  and  this  is  the  preface  that 
Champvans  gave  in  his  Journal.  "  The  Bishops  have 
exacted  adhesion  from  their  Clergy.  We  say  de- 
signedly, exacted,  for  evidently,  the  Bishop  holding 
in  his  hand  the  fortunes  and  honor  of  his  inferior 
Clergy;  the  Bishop,  possessing  the  unheard-of,  the 
unreasonable,  and  iniquitous  right  of  discharging, 
revoking,  and  interdicting,  according  to  his  good 
pleasure,  will  obtain  as  many  signatures  as  he  desires, 
except  from  such  honorable  and  courageous  exam- 
ples, as  we  signalize  here.  The  letter  of  M.  Thyons 
throws  a  ray  of  light  upon  one  side  of  the  great  ques- 
tion, the  separation  of  Instruction  from  the  Church 
and  State.'' 

The  letter  will  be  read  with  the  interest  that 
a  man  excites,  who  exposes  himself  to  attack  in 
order  to  preserve  his  dignity  as  a  man,  and  priest. 

The  letter  from  abbe  Thyons,  to  the  Bishop  of 
Autun. 
"  Monseigneur : — 


ABBE   THY  QMS'  LETTER. 


77 


"  There  are  two  things  in  what  you  ask  of  me,  a 
political  act  and  an  act  of  agreement,  as  there  are 
in  me  two  men,  the  priest  and  the  citizen.  As  a 
priest,  I  am  submissive  to  you  ;  as  a  citizen,  I  am 
answerable  to  my  conscience  only. 

"  I  am  not  convinced,  Monseigneur,  that  this  Epis- 
copal manifestation,  this  enrolment  of  opinions,  this 
crusade  of  signatures,  can  have  any  good  result.  It 
has  too  much  the  appearance  of  an  assault  on  public 
opinion. 

"  There  remains  only  oneoi  two  things  ;  the  adhe- 
sion that  you  demand  of  me  is  free,  or  it  is  imperative. 
If  it  is  free,  my  conscience  forbids  me  to  give  it  to 
you  ;  if  it  is  imperative,  it  has  no  value. 

"  Under  these  circumstances,  to  my  great  regret,  I 
find  that  I  must  refuse  my  signature." 

This  letter,  and  many  others  that  followed,  made 
a  great  noise  at  Sion.  The  "  Siecle,"  and  the 
"  Nationale,"  and  all  the  liberal  papers,  copied  it. 
Abbe"  Thyons  seemed  to  have  breathed  the  atmos- 
phere of"  Jocelyn."  His  popularity  became  such, 
that  the  Bishop  thought  it  his  duty  to  strike  him  with 
an  interdict. 

Lamartine,  Champvans,  M.  de  Saint-Ildefonse  and 
I  went  to  see  him  in  his  disgrace.  He  gave  us  the 
welcome  of  his  table  and  his  mind.  He  appeared  to 
me  prodigiously  inferior  to  what  he  had  written. 
Who  had  helped  him  ?  It  was  not  the  dead  Rous- 


78  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

seau,  not  the  living  Champvans,  who  had  not  the 
power  of  managing  the  philosophical  language  to  that 
degree.  M.  de  Lamartine  never  divulged  the  name 
of  the  poor  cure's  helper.  Lamartine's  protection 
and  Champvans'  friendship  continued  faithful.  After 
having  tried  to  write  a  book,  that  was  to  resemble 
the  "Confessions  of  Jean  Jacques,"  the  abbe  was 
nominated  Consul  at  Bucharest.  The  reaction  soon 
drove  him  from  there,  he  came  back  to  his  own 
country,  poor,  and  was  again  aided  by  Lamartine. 
He  had  the  weakness  to  retract,  and  ask  for  bread 
from  the  church,  who  rewarded  him  by  a  cure  of  the 
fourth  order.  Here  he  died  with  the  double  remorse 
of  having  betrayed  his  apostolate,  without  possessing 
the  moral  strength  to  sanctify  it  by  martyrdom,  and, 
finally,  was  himself  betrayed. 

The  "  Bien  Public  "  continued  conspicuous  for  five 
years.  Lamartine  shed  a  light  over  all  its  questions, 
by  his  own  fire.  It  is  impossible  to  choose  from 
these  articles,  they  were  so  remarkable  that  I  should 
have  to  tell  of  all. 

Charles  Holland,  Boussin,  and  I,  had  the  honor  of 
writing  often  for  the  paper.  Its  action  was  not  con- 
fined to  the  department.  It  would  have  been  one 
of  the  batteries,  giving  the  hardest  blows  to  the 
Establishment  of  July,  if  it  had  not  been,  first  of  all, 
an  instrument  of  peace  and  civilization,  preparing 
the  way  and  the  philosophy  of  the  Republic  of  1848. 


EDITORS'  REUNIONS.  79 

It  exerted  an  indisputable  influence,  indirectly, 
among  its  founders.  It  was  the  excuse  for  a  reunion 
every  year,  meeting  at  different  places.  Once  we 
met  at  Saint  Gengoux  and  at  Sercy  at  M.  Dureault's 
the  old  deputy  ;  at  Holland's  in  Macon,  at  Gamier 
Lacombes  and  finally  at  my  house  at  Cormatin. 

Lamartine's  presence  always  caused  a  great  excite- 
ment. All  the  surrounding  population  came  to  see 
and  hear  him.  How  many  magnificent  speeches 
were  given  in  the  villages  and  applauded  by  the  hon- 
est hands  of  laborers  and  vintagers!  How  many 
generous  thoughts  were  uttered,  and  perhaps  only 
half  comprehended,  but  which  ameliorated  the  condi- 
tion of  the  people  by  the  simple  fragments  a  man 
could  carry  home  to  his  family  ! 

At  first  the  new  doctrine,  meeting  the  inherent 
force  of  the  Napoleonic  traditions,  caused  wonder  and 
surprise,  but  little  by  little,  the  fruit  ripened  in  the 
shade.  The  great  teachings  of  the  lettered  Repub- 
licans of  our  generation,  transmitted  from  father  to 
son,  have  at  last  been  understood  by  the  people,  and 
the  result  shows  in  the  almost  unanimous  republican 
vote  in  our  department  to-day. 

At  each  of  our  meetings,  we  noticed  an  increase 
of  receipts,  by  subscription,  and  also  a  much  greater 
increase  of  our  expenses.  This  explained  itself. 
Every  time  that  Lamartine  inserted  an  article,  he  in- 
creased the  issue  ten  fold,  and  sent  copies  to  all  parts 


80  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

of  the  world.  We  could  not  put  a  money  value  upon 
this  dissemination  of  the  good  word.  We  willingly 
sacrified  our  patrimony,  for  the  sake  of  recruiting 
citizens,  for  the  future  Republic.  There  never  was  a 
company  of  shareholders,  who  ruined  themselves  with 
more  enthusiasm. 

I  remember  what  Lamartine  said  to  me,  one  day 
after  we  had  discussed  our  deficit. 

"  Let  us  reflect  upon  this.  May  we  not  here  ex- 
perience a  legitimate  sense  of  satisfaction  and  self- 
gratulation  ?  While  most  men  in  their  enterprises 
have  for  their  principal,  or  secondary  object,  the  in- 
crease of  their  capital,  and  division  of  large  receipts 
among  themselves  ;  while  their  reimbursements  come 
from  exclusively  industrial  transactions ;  while  they 
put  into  their  safes,  the  tithe  of  their  stock,  the  scum 
of  their  brokerages,  and,  finally  the  more  or  less  open 
subsidies,  which  the  Budget  of  State,  with  an  attempt 
at  concealment,  has  constantly  slipped  into  the  hands 
of  those,  whose  consciences  and  opinions,  are  as 
flexible  as  their  pens  ; — is  it  not  consoling  to  see  per- 
sons, possessing  disinterested  ideas  and  opinions  not 
only  scorn  all  corrupt  prosperity,  but  even  willingly 
impose  onerous  taxes  upon  themselves,  and, — as  it 
were — pay  their  own  ransoms  with  their  mites,  for 
the  sake  of  being  independent,  of  remaining  entirely 
and  essentially  national,  and  of  diffusing — as  far  as 
lies  in  their  power — to  the  most  remote  and  inhospita- 


THE  EXPENSE  OF  THE  BIEN  PUBLIC.          gl 

ble  corner  of  the  country,  a  policy,  conducive  to  the 
material  interests  of  the  departments,  and  to  the 
social  interest  of  entire  France  ?  " 

The  "  Bien  Public,"  cost  Lamartine  more  than 
fifteen  thousand  francs  a  year.  It  was  one  of  those 
unseen  graves,  where  a  part  of  his  fortune  was  buried 
for  common  safety,  that  fortune,  so  often  made  and 
unmade,  spent  charitably  and  democratically  for  the 
country,  and  which  the  country  could  not  restore. 

The  Republic,  whose  outline  the  worthy  journal 
had  sketched  so  long  beforehand,  was  the  final  cause 
of  its  disappearance  from  Macon.  Lamartine,  having 
fallen  so  abruptly  from  power,  needed  a  newspaper 
at  Paris  to  explain  his  policy,  so  he  continued  his 
title  to  this  one.  Pelletan  and  LaGuerroniere  worked 
brilliantly  for  it  under  Lamartine's  direction,  and 
Pelletan  learned  that  disinterestedness  and  consci- 
entiousness of  politics,  which  gave  so  much  power  to 
his  talent  and  character  in  the  National  Assembly, 
and  La  Guerroniere  learned  that  maturity  of  style, 
and  graceful  manner,  which  made  him  sympathetic 
and  eloquent,  even  after  he  became  senator  of  the 
Empire. 

The  "  Bien  Public,"  whose  honest  title  has  been 
repeated  in  France  and  other  countries,  formed  a 
generation  of  citizens  invincibly  devoted  to  the  Re- 
public as  the  only  source  of  Liberty.  If  any  one  has 
departed  from  the  great  principle,  he  must  still  look 


82  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

back  with  pride  upon  those  warm  seasons  of  struggle 
and  generous  thought.  Our  cooperation,  brought  us 
all  under  one  master,  unequalled  in  gentleness  and 
genius,  and  gave  us  a  deeper  insight  into  the  best 
heart  that  God  ever  made. 

The  "  Bien  Public  "  grouped  a  phalanx  of  disci- 
ples around  a  modern  Plato,  who  sent  out  to  the 
mountains  and  vines  of  the  Maconnais  as  many  dis- 
courses as  ever  died  away  on  the  billows  of  the  Pirea. 
His  language  was  a  model  of  the  French,  and  he  will 
remain  the  catechism  of  the  Republican  religion. 
If,  of  all  Lamartine's  great  works,  there  had  survived 
only  the  "  Bien  Public,"  it  would  have  left  a  train  of 
light  crossing  his  century  and  losing  itself  in  the  dawn 
of  the  new  Republic. 


VII. 

Monceaux. 

I  HAVE  not  yet  spoken  of  Monceaux,  where 
Lamartine  spent  the  autumn,  and  early  winter 
and  where  he  carried  us  with  him.  The  most  mov- 
ing scenes  of  his  political,  as  well  as  his  private  life, 
unfolded  there.  Monceaux  was  more  truly  the  home 
of  the  politician,  the  counsel  general,  the  host  of  all 
European  celebrities,  than  Saint-Point,  still  the  man 
did  not  disappear  in  the  vortex. 

The  chateau  at  Monceaux,  and  its  surrounding 
vineyards,  which,  during  the  last  years,  were  the  only 
remains  of  his  fortune,  had  been  given  to  Lamartine 
by  an  uncle,  M.  de  Lamartine  senior,  who  was  a  Vol- 
tairian even  after  becoming  a  royalist  in  1815.  He 
was  a  handsome  old  man,  a  savant,  rich,  and  conse- 
quently an  autocrat,  who  held  the  youth  of  the  poet 
under  the  despotic  rod,  more  menacing  than  effective, 
of  family.  No  sale  of  wines  was  ever  made,  no 
journey  undertaken,  no  marriage  projected,  without 
the  authority  of  this  chief  of  the  clan.  In  his 
"  Memoires,"  Lamartine  speaks  of  him  with  a  respect- 
ful horror,  mingled  with  pity.  One  would  have  to 
live  in  a  province,  and  in  a  family  where  there  was 


84  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

one  such  member,  to  have  an  idea  of  the  autocratic 
power  of  Louis  XIV. 

The  chateau  at  Monceaux  was  begun  under  that 
reign  and  finished  in  all  the  florid  style  of  the  Pompa- 
dour. There  is  a  large  fagade,  with  a  pavilion  on  each 
side  ;  a  little  court  where  there  is  a  chapel  ;  an  avenue 
of  chestnuts,  and  the  terrace  running  down  to  the 
grape  vines,  formed  the  only  garden.  Mme.  de  Lam- 
artine  had  built  two  small  English  houses  at  the  en- 
trance, and  had  planted  an  avenue  of  walnut  trees, 
which  went  through  the  vines  to  meet  the  terrace. 
In  spite  of  all  our  entreaties,  Lamartine  had  these 
beautiful  trees  cut  down,  as  they  shaded  the  vines 
too  much,  for  it  was  from  them  that  he  expected  to 
free  himself  from  embarrassment.  He  only  looked 
upon  Monceaux  as  his  living. 

The  landscape  was  at  Saint-Point,  though  that  at 
Monceaux  was  not  to  be  despised.  From  the  terrace 
on  a  clear  bright  day,  one  could  see  the  lofty  snowy 
summit  of  Mont  Blanc  beyond  the  mountains  of 
Beaujolais.  The  eye  rested  only  upon  richness  and 
fertility.  In  the  house  there  had  once  been  a  large 
hall  for  a  theatre,  where  the  young  nobles  and  can- 
onesses  of  the  eighteenth  century  used  to  meet. 
Lamartine  converted  this  into  a  gallery,  where  he 
spent  most  of  his  time. 

How  many  lamps  were  lighted  there,  how  many 
chibouques  smoked,  and  how  many  brilliant  talks 


M  ONCE  A  UX.  85 

those  long  walls  have  heard  !  Alas  !  the  lamps  are 
extinguished,  the  fragrant  odors  ascend  no  more,  the 
loving  words  have  ceased  !  We  are  in  the  way  here, 
.„  we  have  outlived  all  these  joyous  scenes  ! 

I  cannot  recall  Monceaux  without  a  sense  of  per- 
fumed warmth.  . 

The  reception  rooms,  extending  to  the  right  and 
left,  occupying  the  entire  first  story,  were  always 
brightened  by  clear,  open  fires.  The  heaters  were 
only  for  the  corridors.  At  a  door  in  the  middle  of 
the  gallery,  was  a  "  benitier,"  representing  three 
angels,  sculptured  by  Mme.  de  Lamartine  from  a 
model,  still  to  be  found  at  St.  Germain  1'Auxerrois. 

There  was  a  continued  coming  and  going  of 
guests.  Their  silken  robes  rustled  in  the  halls.  The 
sabots  of  the  vintagers,  mounting  the  wooden  stair- 
case leading  to  Lamartine's  cabinet,  had  a  peaceful 
and  rural  sound. 

The  chateau  had  a  southern  exposure,  and  was 
never  enveloped  in  the  mists  of  the  valley,  and  the 
sun  always  shone  on  the  terrace.  It  was  bright  there, 
even  on  a  rainy  day. 

Some  of  the  visitors  came  regularly  every  year, 
and  remained  several  months.  M.  and  Mme.  Dar- 
gaud  spent  November  and  December  there,  which  was 
never  too  long.  Dargaud  has  left  a  name  as  writer 
and  philosopher.  Born  in  the  department  of  Paray- 
le-Monial,  educated  in  the  same  manner  as  Edgar 


86  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

Quinet,  he  commenced  life  early  as  a  man  of  letters, 
and  has  never  been  misunderstood.  Among  other 
things  he  has  written  a  fine  study  upon  "  Marie 
Stuart,"  a  dramatic  history  of  religious  liberty,  "  Life 
of  Queen  Elizabeth,"  and  "  La  Famille,"  where  each 
page  gives  an  exquisite  scene  of  provincial  life. 

He  has  left  a  manuscript  work  upon  Lamartine, 
much  better  than  mine.  Mme.  Dargaud  aided  him 
in  his  literary  work.  He  is  dead.  She  is  blind. 
She  lives  in  a  night  brightened  by  many  memories, 
and  she  still  composes  verses,  which  she  writes 
between  bars,  like  the  blind  at  Quinze  Vingt.  She 
has  descended  into  old  age,  with  a  mind  calm  and 
firm  in  the  face  of  an  inevitable  misfortune,  but  with 
more  light  in  her  blindness  than  many  have  who 
see  clearly. 

Dargaud  worshipped  Lamartine  as  much  as  any 

•of  us.     His  intimacy  commenced  at  an  earlier  period 

than  mine.     He  was  our  resource  after  dinner,  when 

Lamartine,  with  his  feet  stretched  out  on  the  hearth 

before  the  fire,  was  taking  his  daily  nap. 

Then  Dargaud  would  shake  himself  solemnly,  and 
out  came  a  myriad  of  anecdotes,  told  rather  slowly, 
but  always  in  an  agreeable  manner.  Lamartine 
would  arouse,  and  continue  them  until  bedtime. 

Dargaud  was  a  man  for  a  philosophical  walk. 
Every  once  in  a  while,  he  would  halt,  and  his  com- 
panion was  obliged  to  do  the  same.  In  cold  weather, 


L  0  UIS  DE  R  ONCHA  UD.  8 ; 

this  was  not  so  agreeable.  In  order  to  more  surely 
retain  one,  he  would  take  him,  resolutely,  by  the 
button  of  his  overcoat.  But  his  conversation  was 
attractive,  and  we  rarely  left  the  button  in  his  hand, 
so  that  if  we  took  cold — we  at  least,  saved  our  polite- 
ness, and  our  overcoats. 

Louis  de  Ronchaud  used  to  come  to  all  the  fetes 
of  St.  Martin.  I  love  him  too  much  not  to  speak  of 
him.  He  has  devoted  his  life  to  poetry,  art,  politics, 
and  to  the  Republic.  He  has  sculptured  a  marvel- 
lous study  of  Phidias,  like  one  of  the  marbles  of  the 
Parthenon,  which  gave  him  the  honor  of  an  entire 
number  of  the  "  Cours  de  Litterature."  He  has 
written  some  fine  dramas  for  himself,  and  some  noble 
verses  for  the  reviews. 

Assisted  by  Dumesnil,  the  talented  son-in-law  of 
Michelet,  he  is  now  revising  a  complete  edition  of 
Lamartine's  works.  The  revision  could  not  be  done 
under  more  auspicious  circumstances,  nor  by  more 
loving,  and  appreciative  hands.  This  is  what  the 
public  knows,  or  will  know  of  Louis  Ronchaud,  but 
it  will  still  be  ignorant  of  the  almost  heroic  part  that 
he  has  taken  in  democracy  militant,  for  the  last  thirty 
years. 

M.  Grevy,  who  presides  over  the  National  Assem- 
bly to  day,  perhaps  because  he  is  the  most  honest 
man,  has  a  sincere  and  enduring  friendship  for  Louis 
Ronchaud. 


88  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS, 

This  tells  a  whole  story. 

There  is  one  more  sympathetic  face  of  the  circle 
at  Monceaux.  Every  year  at  almost  the  same  time, 
just  as  the  fogs  had  reached  the  lower  vines,  we  saw 
a  little  carriage  coming  up  the  avenue,  in  which  was 
shaking  backward  and  forward,  a  great  -grey  hat  on 
the  back  of  a  head,  and  we  said.  "  It  is  the  gentle- 
man" 

"  The  gentleman  "  responded,  and  happily  for  his 
friends  still  responds,  to  the  name  of  J.  B.  Desplaces. 

He  had  lived  ten  or  fifteen  years  in  England,  and 
brought  back  with  him,  English  habits  and  English 

o  *  O  O 

whiskers. 

He  edited  in  London,  the  French  journal,  "  Le 
Courrier  de  1'Europe."  He  belonged  to  an  obscure 
but  upright  family  of  the  suburbs  of  Macon.  He 
was  self-made,  and  chose  the  best  models.  Having 
visited  much  in  London  society,  he  could  speak 
English  with  Mme.  de  Lamartine,  and  related  agreea- 
bly all  the  commercial  and  diplomatic  chronicles  of 
the  metropolis.  He  was  as  well  versed  in  questions 
of  fine  art  as  in  financial  questions.  Upon  those, 
especially,  he  gave  Lamartine  most  excellent  advice, 
which  was  never  followed. 

When  Lamartine's  ruin  was  inevitable  and  the 
unhappy  question  of  national  subscription  was  raised, 
to  which  I  shall  refer  bye-and-bye,  M.  Desplaces  beg- 
ged Lamartine  to  allow  him  to  go  to  America  to  see 


DESPLACES  IN  AMERICA.  89 

what  could  be  done  there.  This  was  a  few  years 
after  1848,  and  Desplace  felt  certain,  that  the  great 
Republic  of  the  United  States,  would  hold  it  an  honor 
to  aid  one,  who  had  proclaimed  the  same  form  of 
government  in  France. 

Desplaces  departed.  He  was  gone  eighteen 
months,  and  his  mission  was  almost  fruitless.  The 
great  coffers  of  New  York  and  Washington  did  not 
open  for  an  unfortunate,  so  far  away.  If  Lamartine 
had  shown  himself  in  person,  and  had  given  a  series 
of  lectures,  he  would  have  brought  back  a  whole 
Mississippi  of  dollars.  Practical  business  men  could 
not  forgive  him  for  not  coming  to  see  them.  They 
could  not  see  the  civilizing  side  of  Lamartine's  mis- 
sion. 

Desplaces  held  conferences  in  vain,  where  nothing 
was  lacking  that  could  persuade.  The  subscribers 
belonged  chiefly  to  the  Southern  States,  or  to  the 
Latin  race,  who  understood  the  "  Meditations." 

Desplaces  could  not  console  himself  for  not  bring- 
ing back  a  million  by  the  sale  of  books  alone,  as  that 
was  his  object  more  than  to  raise  a  subscription. 
He  felt  ashamed  of  the  American  indifference,  and 
believed  himself  in  some  way  responsible  for  the 
littleness  of  a  great  people.  His  disappointment  only 
increased  his  friendship  for  Lamartine,  and  Lamar- 
tine's for  him.  Lamartine  never  allowed  him  to  see 
that  he  had  counted  upon  a  success. 


9o 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


Desplaces  consecrated  himself  to  philosophy  and 
liberalism. 

To-day  he  is  one  of  the  most  fervent  apostles  of 
the  republican,  and  anti-clerical  cause  among  us. 

M.  and  Mme.  Adam  Salomon  were  most  wel- 
come guests. 

Salomon  could  be  pardoned  for  being  a  photo- 
grapher, because  in  his  pictures,  he  did  not  forget  that 
he  was  an  artist.  Mme.  Salomon  devoted  herself  to 
charitable  work  in  the  Israelite  world,  as  Mme.  de 
Lamartine,  in  the  Catholic.  The  hours  that  she 
spared  us  from  her  work  were  always  full  of  charm, 
and  always  too  short. 

I  am  embarrassed  in  speaking  of  the  grace,  and 
intellect  of  those  I  name,  but  Lamartine  could  only 
have  about  him  people  of  intelligence,  to  whom  he 
made  few  exceptions,  myself  for  example — 

A  most  entertaining  and  dear  friend  was  Ed- 
mond  Texier,  who  brought  there  his  three  young 
daughters.  They  had  the  honor  of  playing  their 
youthful  comedies,  in  which  they  put  so  much  talent, 
and  naivete,  that  Lamartine,  who  generally  did  not 
care  much  for  the  theatre,  unless  there  was  a  farce, 
was  sincerely  amused. 

One  of  the  flatteries  of  Adolphe  de  La  Tour,  was 
to  reserve  a  box  at  the  "  Vari6tes  "  for  Lamartine. 
Odry  and  Arnal  were  his  heroes.  As  for  Texier,  I 
shall  tell  nothing  new  in  saying  that  his  wild,  unsatis- 


EDMOND   TEXIER.  QJ 

fied,  Bohemian,  and  at  the  same  time,  classic  imagina- 
tion made  him  an  inexhaustible  joy  for  his  auditors. 
He  had  an  unknown  side  of  tenderness,  which  Lam- 
artine discovered  and  appreciated. 

"  Do  not  ask  a  favor  of  Texier,"  said  Lamartine 
to  me,  "  he  is  so  good,  that  he  promises  all,  without 
realizing  it.  It  is  not  forgetfulness.  His  generosity 
makes  him  guarantee  impossibilities.  He  would  com- 
promise himself  by  his  kindness." 

Texier  did  not  only  bring  his  own  wit  to  Mon- 
ceaux,  but  he  brought  forth  a  new  light  in  Lamartine. 
We  had  often  seen  the  flashes  of  the  lightnings  in 
our  familiar  intercourse,  but  they  were  lost  in  the 
power  of  his  philosophy  and  eloquence.  When 
Texier  was  there,  we  had  an  amusing  Lamartine. 
He  was  transformed  into  Voltaire.  He  would  make 
us  laugh  for  hours.  Laugh  !  It  was  really  that,  and 
with  what  abandon  ! 

One  evening,  after  the  young  ladies  had  gone  to 
bed,  he  proposed  to  read  one  of  the  tales  of  Boccac- 
cio to  us.  We  were  enchanted  at  the  unexpected- 
ness of  the  proposition,  though  none  of  us  would  have 
dared  to  confess  that  he  could  not  understand  Italian 
without  a  dictionary.  Lamartine  had  talked  with 
Graziella,  and  in  spite  of  his  northern  birth,  had  an 
oriental  and  meridional  genius.  He  could  have 
spoken  in  the  Parliament  at  Florence,  or  in  a  Conclave 
at  Rome,  with  equal  ease. 


92 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIEXDS. 


He  went  to  get  the  book,  and  showed  us  that  he 
had  bought  it  at  a  Venetian  Cardinal's  sale. 

Dargaud  who  did  not  understand  Italian,  thought 
the  distraction  was  hardly  worth  the  while. 

"  It  is  not  a  translation  then,"  he  said. 

"  I  have  never  had  but  one  translation,  that  is 
yours  of  the  book  of  Job." 

"  You  are  very  kind." 

"Apropos,  Dargaud,  you  speak  Hebrew  of 
course  ?  " 

"  Seldom,  there  is  a  Latin  edition  of  1735. 

Dargaud  felt  the  necessity  of  changing  -the  con- 
versation. 

"  If  you  would  be  so  kind  as  to  read  us  a  tale 
from  Voltaire,"  he  replied, 

"  The  ladies  are  here,  and  there  is  more  sentiment 
in  Boccaccio." 

So,  bravely  putting  on  his  spectacles,  which  was 
a  great  concession,  for  he  was  not  ignorant  of  the 
magnetism  of  his  eyes,  Lamartine  took  his  seat 
under  the  light,  and  opened  his  book. 

"  It  was  so  small,  that  the  cardinal  used  to  take  it 
into  the  confessional,  and  read,  while  he  was  listening 
to  an  old  dowager." 

Lamartine  did  not  think  of  sleeping  that  night. 
His  eyes  sparkled  under  the  glasses,  his  gestures  took 
forms  we  had  never  seen  before.  He  read  in  French, 


A    TALE  FROM  BOCCACCIO 


93 


without  destroying  the  vivacity  of  the  verse  by  his 
translation,  one  of  the  most  marvellous  tales,  in 
which  there  were  twenty  characters,  and  where  spark- 
ling epigrams  and  daring  thoughts  were  silvered  in 
Italian  grace.  By  closing  our  eyes,  we  could  almost 
have  sworn,  that  we  were  at  a  representation'of  the 
"  Comedie  Francaise."  His  voice  changed  at  each 
speaker.  Sometimes  it  was  the  nasal  tones  of  an  old 
"procureur''  of  the  Margellina,  at  Naples,  or  the 
hoarse  voice  of  a  soldier,  or  the  flute-like  tones  of  a 
love-sick  signorina.  The  intonations  were  so  marked, 
that  we.  seemed  to  see  the  actors.  He  laughed,  he 
cried,  he  grimaced,  he  transported  us  into  gallant 
Italy  of  the  fourteenth  century.  The  Fiametta 
and  Filomela  defiled  before  us  in  their  unknotted 
mantles,  and  sat  down  on  the  grassy  mound  to  the 
music  of  castanets,  and  guitar.  The  water  from 
the  fountains  fell  from  step  to  step ;  compliments 
flowed  from  mouth,  to  mouth  ;  the  prior  sat  before 
a  bountiful  repast  ;  the  shops  of  Boulogne  re- 
sounded with  gossip  ;  the  palaces  lifted  the  curtains 
of  their  alcoves,  and  a  perpetual  joy  pervaded  every 
picture. 

The  reading,  or  rather  the  representation,  lasted 
two  hours.  We  were  exhausted  with  delight.  Lam- 
artine,  then  on  the  pinnacle  of  popularity,  with  a 
nature  grave  and  sad,  became  again  a  young  man, 
joyous  by  his  age,  and  melancholy  by  his  talent,  who 


94 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


had  listened  to  Pasquino  at  Rome,  and  had  met  with 
all  sorts  of  adventures. 

As  Ossian  had  put  on  the  gown  of  the  "  Malade 
Imaginaire,  "  or  Byron  had  sung  an  impromptu  song 
at  the  "  fete  de  Piedegrotta." 

Lamartine  did  not  go  to  bed  that  night  until 
eleven  o'clock,  an  event  which  never  happened,  ex- 
cept during  the  revolutionary  nights  of  the  Hotel-de- 
Ville. 

He  did  not  dream  of  his  dignity,  scarcely  of  his 
majesty.  It  was  an  hour  of  forgetfulness  and  im- 
provisation, and  all  because  his  own  nature  was  so 
simple,  and  he  saw  that  his  good-will  brought  tears 
of  gratitude  to  our  eyes. 

Since  then,  I  have  looked  for  the  text  of  that 
tale,  and  have  only  found  the  framework.  With- 
out one  of  us  suspecting  it,  Lamartine  had  added 
more  than  three  quarters,  with  such  a  delicacy  of 
assimilation,  that  Fiametta  would  have  found  no 
fault.  So,  after  that  evening,  whenever  he  said  to 
me  that  he  ought  to  have  been  a  financier,  I  never 
protested,  even  mentally.  He  had  made  himself  a 
great  comedian,  and  what  more  might  he  not  have 
done  ? 

I  do  not  desire  to  conceal  anything  of  his  charac- 
ter. I  must  show  how  hard  he  was  one  day,  he,  who 
was  always  so  good,  and  so  courteous.  Every  touch 
given  to  this  great  statue,  must  be  precise. 


AN  UNWELCOME  ARRIVAL. 


95 


One  evening  in  September  1846,  I  was  going  to 
Monceaux  unexpectedly.  By  way  of  explanation, 
let  me  say,  that  Lamartine,  imagining  that  we  might 
be  assailed  by  requests,  had  positively  forbidden  us 
presenting  any  one,  no  matter  who,  to  him,  without 
warning,  leaving  us  to  suppose  that  he  hated  new 
faces.  Just  as  I  was  turning  below  the  terrace,  I  saw 
gestures  on  the  horizon,  and  a  tall  man  approached 
me,  making  demonstrations  of  great  joy.  I  recog- 
nized X.  I  had  not  seen  him  for  fifteen  years. 

He  had  been  my  classmate  at  college,  and  we  had 
passed  an  adventurous  youth  together.  As  a  young 
man,  he  had  a  savor  of  Creole  fancy,  and  to  his  friends 
was  as  romantic  as  a  hero  of  Hoffman.  He  had  been 
sent  to  conduct  a  ministerial  newspaper  in  the  pro- 
vince, where  duels  were  fought  to  sustain  a  subpre- 
fect.  He  subsequently  founded  a  diplomatic  review, 
and  though  he  received  a  government  subsidy,  he 
preserved  his  independence. 

One  morning  M.  Guizot  reproached  him  for  a 
journey  he  had  taken  under  false  direction. 

4i  What  will  you  have,  M.  le  Ministre,"  said  he  "  I 
will  call  it  my  trip  to  Gand." 

One  night,  on  his  way  home  with  some  friends, 
passing  through  rue  Saint-Benoit,  he  went  into  a 
grocer's,  and  bought  a  piece  of  chalk,  then  stopping 
before  the  office  of  the  "  Revue  des  Deux-Mondes,  " 
he  wrote  in  great  capitals  on  the  door. 


96 


LAM  A  R  TINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


"  Buloz !  Beware  of  the  ides  of  March  !  "  (iddes 
de  Mars)  M.  de  Mars  was  M.  Buloz'  secretary  and 
proof-reader  who  had  put  too  many  punctuation 
marks  in  one  of  X's  articles. 

I  was  astonished  to  meet  him  at  Monceaux. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  I  exclaimed. 
"  Have  you  come  from  Lamartine  ?  " 

"  Alas!  No.  I  was  passing  through  Macon,  and 
I  never  should  have  forgiven  myself  if  I  had  not  seen 
the  house  of  this  great  man,  so  I  have  walked  out. 
It  is  nearly  six  o'clock,  and  I  have  not  been  to  din- 
ner." 

I  shuddered,  for  I  saw  what  was  expected  of  me. 
A  matter  of  great  importance  compelled  me  to  see 
Lamartine  that  night,  or  I  should  have  proposed 
going  back  to  Macon. 

"  You  know  Lamartine  very  well,"  said  he. 

It  was  impossible  to  deny  it,  my  relations  with 
him  are  too  public.  I  did  not  reply. 

He  continued, 

"  Present  me  to  him." 

The  blow  was  struck.  I  felt  a  pity  for  my  poor 
comrade,  with  whom  I  had  had  so  many  pleasant 
associations,  and  could  not  bear  to  think  that  after 
turning  aside  from  a  journey  purposely  to  see  Lam- 
artine, he  was  to  be  disappointed,  when  I  had  only 
to  open  the  door. 

"  It  is  very  late,"  I  said. 


A  DILEMMA. 


97 


"  It  is  dinner  time."     X.  replied  in  a  sad  tone. 

Clearly,  there  was  no  deception.  The  visit  was 
made  in  good  faith,  He  could  not  have  foreseen  my 
arrival  and  nothing  but  admiration  had  brought  him 
there. 

"  Let  me  tell  M.  de  Lamartine  of  his  good  for- 
tune, and  get  into  my  carriage  while  waiting." 

We  were  in  the  court.  Affairs  were  getting  a 
little  complicated.  The  servant  told  me  that  there 
were  many  guests.  I  entered.  The  gallery  was  full. 
There  were  friends  and  strangers  too,  all  in  evening 
dress.  Lamartine  welcomed  me  with  his  habitual 
expression  of  happy  surprise. 

"  The  house  is  overflowing.  You  will  have  to 
sleep  in  the  library,"  said  he. 

I  drew  him  aside  into  the  bay-window,  and  ex- 
plained my  perplexities.  His  face  grew  severe. 

He  was  the  recognized  leader  of  the  opposition. 

"  X.  ?  "  said  he  "  One  of  Guizot's  spies." 

He  calumniated  X.  although  he  did  not  attach  to 
the  word  "  spies  "  its  ordinary  meaning. 

I  tried  to  pacify  him,  saying  that  the  encounter 
was  entirely  unforeseen,  and  that  the  poor  fellow  had 
been  looking  disconsolately  at  the  illustrious  roof 
for  the  last  two  hours. 

"  Bring  him  in,"  said  he,  finally. 

I  went  away  dissatisfied.  "  X.  will  have  a  poor 
idea  of  my  credit  with  Lamartine,"  I  thought,  "he 


98 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


will  write  to  the  newspapers  that  his  hospitality  is 
decidedly  over-rated." 

I  met  Champvans  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and 
told  him  my  story. 

"  I  would  not  like  to  be  in  your  place,"  said  ha, 
leaving  me  hastily. 

I  indulged  the  secret  hope  that  reflection,  and 
native  kindness,  would  accomplish  their  work.  I  did 
not  tell  X.  of  the  cloud.  I  introduced  him.  Every 
body  was  looking  at  us.  Lamartine  had  told.  He 
was  more  than  cold,  he  was  haughty.  He  did  not 
ask  a  question.  He  confined  himself  to  generalities, 
and  started  off  in  an  invective  against  the  ministry. 
X,  was  disconcerted.  Perhaps,  he  was  thinking  of 
Hugo's  "  Danube  en  Colere." 

The  clock  struck  the  hour  for  dinner.  There  was 
no  allusion.  Lamartine  said  that  he  needed  me  for 
the  next  fortnight. 

Mme.  de  Lamartine,  who  saw  my  discomfiture, 
stepped  forward  to  ameliorate  X's  condition. 

Her  husband  stopped  her,  with  a  slight  gesture. 
X.  was  generally  very  prompt  to  act,  but  now  he 
could  not  find  a  word  to  say.  It  might  not  have 
helped  much;  however,  he  would  not  have  appeared 
so  much  like  an  idiot.  The  dinner  bell  sounded,  I 
took  X.  by  the  arm,  determined  to  take  him  back  to 
Macon,  and  present  him  to  my  father  for  compen- 
sation ;  Lamartine  divined  my  intention. 


LATE  REPENTANCE. 


99 


"  You  will  take  Mme.  de  M.,  to  dinner,"  said  he, 
loud  enough  to  mark  the  exclusion. 

To  let  X.  go,  was  to  give  a  lesson.  I  had  my 
horse  re-harnessed,  and  ordered  the  man  to  take  my 
friend  back  to  Macon.  I  cannot  remember  all  the 
excuses  that  I  invented.  I  have  never  seen  him 
since.  If  he  ever  reads  this,  he  will  know  what  I 
suffered. 

I  pouted  a  little  that  evening.  Lamartine  re- 
doubled his  favors.  He  made  me  recite  poetry,  and 
thanked  me  a  dozen  times  for  coming.  Under  such 
treatment  the  slight  wound  to  the  heart  was  quickly 
cicatrized.  Still,  I  felt  that  I  had  cause  for  complaint, 
and  the  next  day,  I  said  to  him, 

"  You  were  cruel  yesterday." 

"  I  do  not  belong  to  myself,"  he  replied.  "  If  X. 
had  dined  with  me,  all  Europe  would  have  said  that 
I  accepted  the  ministry.  Politics  is  more  tyrannical 
than  the  Empress  of  Russia.  But  I  really  like  the 
young  man.  Let  us  go  and  see  him  at  his  hotel  at 
Macon. 

"  He  went  away  this  morning." 

"  Lacretelle,"  said  he,  "  if  ever  he  wants  a  note  of 
a  thousand  francs — whisper  to  me." 

"  He  would  rather  have  a  good  word."  I  replied, 
in  order  to  raise  my  companion  in  his  estimation,  and 
still  speak  the  truth. 

X.,  never  received  the  note,  nor  the  good  word 


IOO  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

He  had  a  heart  without  resentment,  and  showed  a 
generous  forgetfulness.  All  he  said  to  the  Divan  Le 
Pelletier,  was,  that  Lamartine  was  a  Jacobin. 

He  has  since  become  rich,  and  he  nobly  revenged 
himself,  by  adding  his  name  to  the  Lamartine  sub- 
scription. I  did  not  have  another  occasion  for  many 
years,  to  find  fault  with  the  bad  temper  and  cruelty 
of  this  courteous  man.  Lamartine  was  Chateaubri- 
and only  on  that  day. 


VIII. 

The  Banquet  at  Mdcon. 

TN  the  meantime,  during  a  period  of  two  years, 
L  "  Les  Girondins,''  had  been  appearing,  at  inter- 
vals of  three  months.  This  great  work,  recounting 
the  history  of  a  past  Revolution,  and  containing  the 
germs  of  a  future  Revolution,  caused  unprecedented 
excitement,  which,  like  a  fire,  died  away,  only  to  re- 
kindle at  the  publication  of  each  successive  volume. 
Lamartine  the  greatest  poet,  and  one  of  the  most 
powerful  forces  at  the  tribune  in  moving  the  Assem- 
bly, now  revealed  himself  as  the  most  pathetic  of  his- 
torians. By  one  of  those  curious  transformations, 
which  authors  frequently  produce,  Robespierre, 
though  not  deprived  of  his  robe  of  blood,  surpasses 
in  interest  the  Girondists,  who  are  the  true  heroes. 
Who  could  imagine  it  ? 

Lamartine  was  attracted  by  the  austerity  of  his 
habits,  and  by  the  bold  sincerity  of  that  spiritualism 
which  drew  upon  him  the  hatred  of  the  Atheists  of 
the  9th  Thermidor.  This  rehabilitation  of  a  char- 
acter so  universally  detested,  conflicted  with  public 
sentiment.  The  royalists  pursued  Lamartine,  night 
and  day.  The  philosophers,  alone,  pardoned  him. 


I02  LAM  AR  TINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

These  opposing  sentiments  only  stimulated  the  suc- 
cess of  the  work,  which  continued  to  fascinate  like  a 
romance,  and  was  committed  to  memory  like  the 
Annals  of  Tacitus. 

Historical  style  was  clothed  in  new  colors ;  that 
inexhaustible  genius  expanded,  crystallizing  in  the 
imagination  like  waves  of  marble.  No  one  could 
doubt  the  facts  presented  in  those  stirring  pages,  and 
through  them,  the  heart  of  the  people  was  directed 
immediately  towards  the  Revolution.  It  was  clear, 
that  the  first  word  pronounced,  would  be  :  Republic  ! 

Enemies,  and  superficial  thinkers  have  claimed 
that  "  Les  Girondins  "  could  not  be  classed  among 
serious  works.  Perhaps,  because  the  reader  never 
wearies.  Can  it  be  possible  that  a  history,  whose 
editions  have  multiplied  without  number,  and  which 
has  been  the  means  of  obliterating  a  dynasty,  is  not 
a  serious  work?  The  army  that  surrenders  ;  the  king 
who  takes  flight ;  the  barricades  that  rise ;  the  Na- 
tional Guard,  that  with  one  voice  proclaim,  "  Long 
live  Reform,"  and  all  this,  because  the  ideas  concen- 
trated in  some  eight  volumes  of  history,  have  ger- 
minated in  their  hearts  ;  is  this  not  serious  ? 

Search  the  chronicles  of  the  people  and  the  libra- 
ries of  nations,  and  how  many  books  will  you  find, 
beginning  in  the  enthusiasm  of  the  people  and  end- 
ing in  such  scenes  as  that  at  the  Hotel-de-Ville,  where 
the  red  flag  of  communism  is  trampled  under  foot, 


MATERIAL  FOR  "  LES  GIRONDINSr  103 

capital  punishment  abolished,  and  where  Eternal 
Truth,  and  the  Republic  are  proclaimed.  I  might 
almost  say,  that  I  saw  Lamartine  write  "  Les  Giron- 
idins."  He  was  preparing  for  the  work,  by  visiting 
the  country  and  the  houses  he  was  to  depict ;  collect- 
ing about  him  the  survivors  of  that  great  epoch,  as 
well  as  the  letters,  and  contemporaneous  newspapers. 
He  went  to  the  house  of  Mme.  Roland,  near  Ville- 
Franche  ;  to  that  of  Charlotte  Corday's  aunt,  in  Nor- 
mandy ;  to  the  cellars  of  Marat,  and  to  Robespierre's 
apartments  in  rue  St.  Honor6,  Paris.  He  conversed 
with  Danton's  widow  ;  and  an  old  friend  of  Fouquier 
Thinville,  for  he  had  a  few,  came  to  give  some  infor- 
mation in  regard  to  the  "  procureur  "  of  the  guillo- 
tine. 

"And  what  kind  of  a  man  was  he?"  asked 
Lamartine. 

"  A  charming  person,  always  merry  !  "  replied  the 
friend. 

After  Lamartine  had  made  sufficient  inquiries  ; 
after  he  had  revivified  his  characters  and,  as  it  were, 
listened  to  their  voices,  filled  with  his  subject,  fresh 
from  its  sources,  he  wrote  with  prodigious  facility  and 
rapidity,  never  dictating  until  towards  the  latter  part 
of  his  life. 

He  planned  a  journey  into  Brittany  for  material, 
in  view  of  a  special  volume  regarding  the  War  of  the 
Vendee.  February  intervened.  The  journey  was 


104 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


not  taken  and  the  volume  was  never  written.  Lam- 
artine  received  four  hundred  thousand  francs  for  the 
manuscript  of  "  Les  Girondins,"  and  the  editor  made 
a  fortune  out  of  it. 

The  excitement  at  Macon  was  so  intense,  that  we 
felt  the  necessity  of  some  special  demonstration. 
What  should  it  be  ?  Public  meetings  were  forbidden, 
The  prefects  closed  their  eyes  upon  banquets,  so  a 
banquet  was  decided  upon,  in  July,  1847. 

A  committee  was  chosen,  and  the  duties  divided. 
They  were  easy  to  accomplish,  for  public  opinion  was 
not  only  favorable,  but  urgent.  The  Republicans 
wanted  to  know  their  strength.  Not  a  word  was  to 
be  said,  but  the  idea  was  apparent  even  under  this 
imposed  silence. 

An  immense  space  was  prepared,  for  we  were 
to  receive  an  entire  population.  Delegates  from 
twenty  departments  were  expected.  The  govern- 
ment felt  that  there  was  a  battle  of  words  in  prepara- 
tion against  it.  It  did  not  dare,  openly,  to  put  a  gag 
into  the  mouth  of  such  an  agitator,  but  we  did  not 
doubt  that  difficulties  would  be  invented,  and  traps 
set  for  us. 

Lamartine  did  not  forget  that  he  had  been  a 
diplomat.  He  offered  the  presidency  of  the  banquet 
to  M.  Delmas,  prefect  of  Saone-et-Loire.  This  was 
ingenious,  for  the  prefect  could  not  accept,  and  by 
declining  the  honor  of  presiding  over  a  meeting,  he 


PREPARA  TI'ONS. 


105 


admitted  the  possibility  of  it,  and  his  letter  became 
an  authorization.  After  all,  how  could  he  prevent 
an  homage  offered  to  a  literary  work,  and  treat  the 
author  of  "  Les  Meditations  "  as  an  insurgent  ? 

The  presidency  was  given  to  our  friend  Charles 
Holland,  who  though  very  young,  was  then  Mayor 
of  Macon.  The  following  notice  appeared  in  the 
"  Bien  Public."  "  In  a  few  days,  two  thousand  of  our 
citizens  will  unite  in  a  friendly  banquet,  celebrating 
the  triumph  of  the  most  remarkable  historian  of  our 
day.  Among  them  will  be  men  of  great  talent,  and 
noble  character,  and  none  but  friends  of  Order." 
And  again  ; 

"  The  banquet  is  decidedly  fixed  for  Sunday,  July 
eighteenth,  at  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  Those 
desiring  to  take  part,  are  requested  to  address  one 
of  the  one  hundred  and  twenty  members  of  the  com- 
mittee designated. 

"The  price  of  subscription  is  five  francs.  Each 
subscriber  will  have  the  privilege  of  presenting  one 
or  more  ladies." 

Again  on  the  thirteenth  was  another  notice  : 
"  The  committee  trust  exclusively  to  the  public 
sentiment  for  the  maintenance  of  order  and  dignity 
on  this  occasion.  Such  a  gathering  has  no  recom- 
mendation except  in  itself.  Its  discipline  results 
from  its  seriousness,  and  from  the  solemnity  of  the 
patriotic  act  that  is  to  be  accomplished." 


106  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

We  proceeded  prudently,  and  by  degrees,  and 
when  the  affair  was  too  far  advanced  to  be  suppressed 
by  the  government,  without  violence,  we  gave  to  it  a 
political  character. 

July  1 8th  was  a  hot  day  at  Macon,  and  six  thou- 
sand visitors  from  other  cities,  sought  in  vain  for  a 
refreshing  breath  in  the  burning  streets.  The  de- 
partment of  Saone-et-Loire  sent  all  its  disengaged 
population.  There  were  deputations  from  sixty  cities. 
Railroads  were  not  known  here,  at  that  time,  and  in- 
numerable carriages  and  omnibuses  followed  in  rapid 
succession,  over  the  dusty  roads,  through  crowds  of 
peasants  bringing  their  children  to  see  the  spectacle. 

The  space  chosen,  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Saone, 
covered  more  than  a  hectare,  (13.000  sq.  yds.).  It 
was  a  long  parallelogram,  where  five  hundred  tables, 
shining  with  white  linen,  were  sheltered  from  the  sun 
by  awnings  and  tents.  On  the  four  sides  were  eleva- 
ted seats,  for  the  accommodation  of  spectators.  At 
the  end  was  a  table  higher  than  the  others  for  Lam- 
artine,  and  a  platform  for  the  authorities. 

I  had  come  from  Cormatin,  leading  a  caravan  of 
queer  vehicles,  and  every  conceivable  animal  for 
riding.  Every  cart  and  donkey  had  twice  its  load. 
We  were  pilgrims,  going  to  worship  at  the  Mecca  of 
Genius.  I  wore  my  committee  badge.  Leon  Bruys 
surpassed  himself  in  introducing  the  fair  sex. 

This  was  one  of  the  last  exhibitions  of  the  Macon- 


THE  SPECTACLE.  .  IQ/ 

nais.  The  wives  of  wealthy  farmers,  brought  out 
from  their  closets  their  rich  silk  costumes,  and  coifs 
of  lace,  which  had  passed  from  mother  to  daughter, 
since  the  days  of  Margaret  of  Savoy.  The  Enamels 
of  Bourg  were  displayed,  and  necklaces,  and  golden 
crosses  sparkled  in  the  sunlight.  Six  thousand  spec- 
tators occupied  the  elevated  seats.  There  were  jour- 
nalists from  Paris  and  elsewhere,  peasants  in  blouses, 
priests  in  robes,  workmen  in  jackets,  young  girls  in 
summer  finery,  gentlemen  from  the  cities  in  fashion- 
able attire,  soldiers  on  the  wing,  and  foreigners 
who  had  turned  aside  from  their  journey  to  see  a 
French  meeting.  All  were  eagerly  questioning  each 
other,  gesticulating,  perspiring,  and  expectant,  as  if 
there  were  to  be  a  revelation.  And  the  monstrous 
meat-pies,  and  the  corks  bursting  from  the  bottles, 
letting  out  a  flood  of  rich  red  wine  ;  the  thousand 
flags  unfolding  to  the  breeze  ;  the  cries  of  fright  from 
the  throng,  crowding  upon  each  other  ;  the  cries  of 
joy  of  friends  meeting  each  other ;  the  greetings, 
the  stamping  feet,  the  merry  laughs,  and  the  confused 
clamors,  the  great  respect  in  this  patriotic  intoxica- 
tion, the  sanctity,  one  might  almost  call  it,  in  the 
tumult,  were  a  reminiscence  of  the  Federation  at  the 
Champ-de-Mars.  And  all  these  movements — all 
these  hopes,  marking  a  time  exceptional  in  the  festi- 
vals of  the  people,  was  the  prologue  of  a  day  historic 
in  the  Annals  of  Macon. 


108  LA  MAR  TINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

"  A  Roman  Coliseum — but  a  Coliseum  living  and 
popular."  Lamartine  said  to  us  afterwards. 

The  curtain  was  about  to  rise,  when  a  grotesque 
episode  changed  the  weariness  of  waiting  into  hilarity. 
Four  young  waiters  appeared  on  the  scene,  bearing 
majestically  towards  the  table  of  honor,  a  calf,  roasted 
whole. 

It  was  Homeric,  certainly,  but  only  imposing 
in  the  Iliad.  M.  Calvert-Rognat,  our  worthy  ca- 
terer, thus  anticipated  the  Empire  of  which  it  was 
symbolic,  beginning  with  an  Eagle  and  ending  with 
a  calf. 

Four  o'clock  was  sounding  from  old  St.  Vincent, 
when  Lamartine  appeared  with  his  municipal  escort. 
He  was  dressed  in  black,  and  was  very  pale,  but  it 
was  the  pallor  of  joy,  a  compensation  for  many  tears. 
How  many  huzzas,  how  many  waving  hands  and 
beating  hearts,  how  many  flowers  thrown  in  homage 
to  a  great  genius,  would  discourage  a  narrator  to  tell 
of!  To  have  taken  twenty  steps,  once  in  a  lifetime 
in  such  an  acclamation,  must,  later,  render  a  martyr- 
dom very  light, or  very  heavy. 

The  excitement  lasted  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 
Charles  Rolland  had  the  honor,  which  seldom  happens 
to  one  so  young,  of  giving  the  welcome  to  each  guest. 
(It  met  the  national  sentiment,  and  resulted  in  two 
nominations  for  him,  to  the  "  Constituante  "  in  1848, 
and  to  the  National  Assembly  in  1870,  without  count- 


CHARLES  ROLLAND.  109 

ing  those  of  the  future).*  His  welcome  was  very 
happily  expressed,  and  much  applauded.  He  at- 
tracted a  little  of  the  absorbing  interest  given  to 
Lamartine.  I  remember  a  part  of  the  discourse. 

"  We  thank  you  for  having  accomplished  the 
great  work  of  our  day.  You  have  separated  from 
the  faults  of  time,  from  the  errors  of  man,  from  the 
crimes  of  factions,  the  immortal  principles  of  the 
French  Revolution,  and  have  held  them  before  our 
eyes,  in  all  their  purity  and  power,  France  will  never 
forget,  thanks  to  you,  the  value  of  Liberty,  Equality 
and  Peace,  nor  the  progress  of  the  human  race  to- 
wards all  questions  of  social  improvement. 

"  Ah  !  let  us  not  forget  that  anarchy  arrests,  and 
cruelty  destroys  these  priceless  boons.  By  the  won- 
derful power  of  eloquence,  the  secret  of  which  you 
possess,  you  have  given  to  public  opinion  an  impene- 
trable armor!  " 

A  storm  was  approaching,  a  veritable  tempest  in 
the  heavens.  The  last  words  were  still  vibrating,  when 
from  the  surcharged  clouds,  the  lightnings  flashed. 
The  wind  followed  fast  upon  the  pealing  thunder. 

The  superstitious  saw  in  this,  an  omen  of  events. 
The  Revolution  was  about  to  break  loose.  The 
Tuileries  would  tremble  in  the  tempest. 

The  tents  and  awnings  were  blown  away.     The 

*  Charles    Holland  died  a  senator,  in  1877.     These   lines  were 
written  in  1872. 


IIO  LA  MAR  TINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

sky  opened,  letting  down  a  deluge  of  rain  and  hail, 
while  the  thunder  continued  to  roll  and  crash  over 
our  heads.  But  this  crowd  of  six  thousand  people, 
were  so  powerfully  held  by  curiosity,  and  admiration, 
that  except  for  a  few  frightened  women,  no  one  left 
the  place. 

Lamartine  came  forward  on  the  platform.  His 
first  words  were  an  inspiration. 

"  You  are  truly  the  sons  of  those  Gauls,  who  said, 
"  If  the  sky  falls  we  will  raise  it  again  with  our 
lances  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

In  order  to  see  better,  we  climbed  upon  the 
tables,  which  from  time  to  time,  broke  down  under 
our  weight.  The  spectators  fell ;  many  were  injured, 
but  not  a  cry  was  heard.  We  closed  up  the  ranks, 
as  during  a  battle,  after  the  cannon  has  made  a 
breach,  and  the  speech  continued  for  two  hours,  in- 
terrupted only  by  frantic  applause.  It  was  one  of 
the  most  magnificent  and  inspiring  improvisations 
the  world  has  ever  heard, 

The  force  of  expression  did  not  detract  from  the 
majesty  and  beauty  of  the  thought.  For  a  long  time, 
the  voice  was  accompanied  by  the  rolling  thunder, 
like  the  sub-bass  of  an  organ,  but  this,  at  last  grew 
weary,  and  gradually  died  away,  before  the  indefa- 
tigable eloquence  of  the  tribune. 

I  can  only  give  a  few  fragments  brought  to  us 
on  the  wings  of  the  wind. 


LAMA  R  TINE'S  SPEECH,  III 

"  In  listening  to  the  words,  which  have  just  been 
addressed  to  me,  in  your  name,  by  my  young  friend 
M.  Rolland,  the  first  magistrate  of  your  city,  who  has 
laid  aside  his  official  capacity  to  appear  here  in  the 
character  granted  to  him  by  your  friendship  !  In 
contemplating  this  immense  concourse  of  citizens  and 
strangers,  this  camp  of  friends,  this  army  of  guests, 
and  this  brilliant  throng  of  ladies,  who  represent  here 
the  highest  role  in  the  history  of  Revolutions,  that 
of  Mercy  and  Pity,  what  foreign  traveller,  happening 
to  enter  our  city  or  pass  by  our  own  river,  would 
not  ask,  what  National  event  we  were  celebrating 
to-day,  what  civic  commemoration,  what  great  man? 
What  minister,  what  distinguished  citizen,  were  we 
honoring  by  this  reception,  this  acclamation,  this  pub- 
lic munificence  ?  And  if  some  one  should  reply  that 
there  was  nothing  of  this  kind  going  on,  that  there 
was  no  minister,  no  great  statesman,  no  soldier  carry- 
ing the  palm  of  a  victorious  campaign — but  simply, 
the  return  to  his  fireside  of  an  obscure  citizen — 
(protestations).  Yes !  a  simple  citizen  like  your- 
selves, who  wishes  no  other  distinction  from  you 
than  the  esteem  and  affection  you  lavish  upon  him  : 
I  repeat  it,  the  return  of  a  simple  citizen,  who  having 
defended,  alas !  too  often  fruitlessly,  the  national 
principles  at  the  tribune,  has  also  imperfectly  written 
a  fu\v  pages  of  the  history  of  his  country.  Is  there, 
I  ask  you,  gentlemen,  is  there  a  stranger,  who  would 


H2  LAMAKTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

not  be  astonished  at  such  a  spectacle,  and  who  would 
not  exclaim,  that  a  people  capable  of  according  such 
honors  to  the  most  modest  works  of  the  mind,  is, 
above  all  a  people  of  intelligence,  meriting  the  su- 
premacy, not  of  the  soil,  but  of  the  intellects  of  Eu- 
rope, by  those  very  works  that  it  recognizes  so  soon, 
feels  so  keenly,  and  recompenses  so  magnificently. 

"  Is  the  French  Revolution,  as  its  adversaries  have 
called  it,  a  sedition  of  the  people,  agitating  itself 
needlessly,  and  crushing  its  church,  its  monarchy, 
its  castes,  its  institutions,  its  nationality,  and  even 
rending  the  map  of  Europe?  If  this  is  true,  the 
Revolution  produced  by  Christianity  must  also  be 
called  a  sedition,  for,  in  order  to  take  its  place,  has 
it  not,  from  the  beginning,  caused  a  subversion  of 
old  systems  and  ideas,  to  the  remotest  corners  of 
the  known  world.  No,  the  Revolution  was  not  a 
miserable  sedition  in  France,  for  a  sedition  subsides 
as  it  rises,  leaving  behind  it  only  ruin,  and  death. 
The  Revolution  has  left  its  scaffolds  and  desolation. 
This  is  its  remorse  and  unhappiness  !  But  it  has 
also  left  a  doctrine  and  a  spirit  which  will  be  per- 
petuated, and  endure,  as  long  as  human  reason  ex- 
ists. 

"  Reaction  is  the  recoil  of  ideas.     It   seems  as  if 
Reason,  seeing  the  new  truths,  which  Revolutions, 


LAMA R TINE'S  SPEECH.  1 1 3 

made  in  its  name,  have  thrust  upon  the  world, 
frightened  at  its  own  boldness,  recoils  and  with- 
draws, from  all  the  ground  that  it  has  gained.  But 
this  is  only  for  a  day ;  other  hands  will  re-load  that 
peace-giving  battery  of  thought,  and  there  will  be 
new  explosions,  not  of  bullets,  but  of  light,  shining 
with  full  power  upon  those  truths  which  seem  to  have 
been  abandoned,  or  vanquished. 

"  And  should  you  ask  what  is  this  new  force  that 
will  subject  governments  to  a  national  will,  I  will  re- 
ply ;  it  is  the  sovereignty  of  ideas,  it  is  the  royalty  of 
the  mind,  it  is  the  Republic,  the  true  Republic,  the 
Republic  of  Intelligence,  in  other  words,  it  is  Public 
Opinion  !  This  force  holds  in  its  hand  the  balance 
of  Reason,  in  which  ideas  and  institutions  are  held  in 
equilibrium.  In  one  of  the  scales,  you  must  under- 
stand that  for  a  long  time,  there  will  be  put  the  old 
credulities,  the  prejudices,  so-called  useful,  the  divine 
right  of  kings,  the  distinction  of  rights  between  classes 
of  men,  between  nations,  the  spirit  of  conquest,  the 
simoniacal  union  of  Church,  and  State,  the  censor- 
ship of  thought,  the  science  of  the  tribune,  ignorance 
and  complete  abasement  of  the  masses  ! 

"  In  the  other  scale,  we  will  put, — WE,  gentlemen, 
the  element,  the  most  impalpable,  most  imponderable 
of  all  that  God  has  created, — LIGHT  !  A  little  of 
that  Light,  which  at  the  end  of  the  last  century  was 


114  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

projected  by  the  French  Revolution,  from  a  volcano 
no  doubt,  but  from  a  volcano  of  truth  ! 

,  "I  have  kept  you  standing  a  long  time  ;  standing, 
like  witnesses  in  the  great  litigation  between  the  past 
and  the  future  !  Pardon  me. 

You  have  given  me,  in  spite  of  an  inauspicious 
sky,  a  beautiful  day,  the  most  glorious  day  of  my 
political,  and  literary  life.  Grant  me  one  wish.  Give 
me  your  names,  that  I  may  preserve  them  for  my 
peaceful  years,  among  the  cherished  souvenirs  of  the 
past,  and  in  showing  them  to  posterity,  I  may  say, 
"  Such  a  day  that  a  country  like  France  gives  to  one 
of  her  children,  does  not  go  down  with  the  sun  !  " 

These  were  his  last  words.  He  fell  back  upon  the 
platform,  like  a  prophet  exhausted  with  the  visions 
of  the  glorious  future,  that  he  had  just  proclaimed. 

The  enthusiastic  applause  calmed,  only  to  revive 
again.  We  carried  him  almost  fainting,  to  his  car- 
riage, while  two  thousand  voices  sent  out  "  La  Mar- 
seillaise," as  a  parting  tribute.  We  accompanied  him 
to  his  apartments  in  Macon,  a  ground  floor,  opening 
out  upon  a  garden. 

This  little  salon  soon  over-flowed  with  ardent 
patriots.  If  Lamartine  had  had  as  many  hands  as 
Briareus,  he  could  not  have  shaken  all  that  were  ex- 
tended to  him,  When  the  flood  of  visitors  had  sub- 


OMENS  OF  THE  REPUBLIC,  115 

sided,  he  opened  the  door,  and  walked  out  into  the 
garden  to  refresh  himself  after  the  excessive  fatigues 
of  the  day.  Drops  of  rain  from  the  trees  fell  upon 
us,  as  we  strolled  in  the  darkness. 

'•  You  have  proclaimed  the  Republic,"  we  said  to 
him. 

"  Perhaps  so  !  "  he  replied,  "  but  I  shall  see  only 
a  very  few  years  of  the  Hegira." 

Then  pointing  to  a  rift  in  the  clouds,  where  a  few 
stars  were  shining,  he  said. 

"  The  Republic  comes  from  heaven.  Let  it  never 
be  corrupted  here  below  !  " 


IX. 


Preparing  for  tJie  Republic. 

ONE  day  in  November,  1847,  I  was  sitting  in 
my  father's  cabinet  at  Bel-Air.  He  was  then 
eighty-one  years  of  age,  and  God  was  to  preserve 
for  seven  years  longer  that  clearness  of  mind,  which 
was  not  obscured  until  the  hour  of  his  death.  The 
question  of  Liberty  had  always  interested  my  father 
more  or  less,  but  he  believed  that  the  only  realiza- 
tion was  in  a  Constitutionally  Monarchical  govern- 
ment. He  comprehended  freedom  only  in  opinions. 
I  cannot  say,  that  it  had  not  been  a  bitterness  to 
see  how  college  ideas,  and  the  study  of  ancient  his- 
tory had  turned  his  son  towards  the  Republic,  con- 
tinuing even  when  the  boy  had  become  a  man.  But 
the  choice  of  my  master  re-assured  him,  and  his  own 
tolerance  stifled  his  groans.  He  knew  very  well  that 
an  abyss  separated  our  Ideal  from  the  "  Terror,"  of 
which  he  had  been  a  witness  and  victim,  which  had 
mowed  down  his  friends,  and  had  left  in  him  what  I 
would  not  like  to  cz\\  prejudices,  against  the  Repub- 
lic. He  often  discussed  its  dogmas  with  me,  and  my 
faith  needed  to  be  strongly  implanted>not  to  be  up- 
rooted by  his  eloquence,  and  paternal  authority. 


CA  USS1DI&RE. 


117 


This  day,  we  were  talking  of  the  banquets  then 
being  held  in  the  country  around  us.  One  had  just 
been  announced  for  Chalon-sur-Saone,  and  I  did  not 
^care  to  tell  him,  that  M.  de  Lamartine  had  asked  me 
to  go  to  it,  where  I  should  meet  Ledru-Rollin,  Flocon 
and  many  of  the  radical  circle.  Just  then  a  servant 
announced  that  some  one  desired  to  see  me. 

"  What  is  his  name  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  M.  Caussidiere.     Shall  I  ask  to  come  here?  " 

Caussidiere  had  a  terrible  reputation,  of  which  his 
intelligent  and  honest  firmness  has  since  robbed  him. 
This  unexpected  visit  surprised  me,  and  I  was  sure 
that  it  would  trouble  my  father,  because  it  would 
seem  to  class  me  with  such  men. 

Ought  I  to  say  it?  At  heart,  I  was  flattered.  I 
was  proud  that. a  man  of  such  combative  democracy 
should  seek  me.  1  was  not  so  well  known  then. 
What  did  he  want?  He  had  the  reputation  of  being 
a  conspirator.  That  side  did  not  please  me.  I  always 
had  a  horror  of  a  combat  not  fought  under  the  clear 
light  of  heaven. 

I  was  then  writing  my  first  romance, "  Les  Ven- 
deurs  du  Temple,"  which  was  appearing  in,  "  La 
Reforme,"  Etienne  Arago  had  given  me  a  welcome 
in  his  paper.  He  was  a  man  who  always  walked 
hand  in  hand  with  kindness,  and  patriotism.  In  those 
pages,  inexperienced  as  they  were,  I  was  trying  to 
trace  a  picture  of  the  surroundings  of  Louis  Philippe 


LA  MAR  TINE  AND  HIS  FKIENDS. 


and  the  corruptions  of  the  impost  regime.  I  was  too 
ardent  and  severe.  The  reign  of  Bonaparte  has  since 
demonstrated  that  I  then  transcended  the  limits  of 
criticism,  and  that  it  would  have  been  more  just  to 
reserve  the  infamy  for  the  crime  itself.  I  expected, 
every  morning,  to  be  threatened  by  a  lawsuit.  My 
obscurity  preserved  me  from  that  rather  mixed  pleas- 
ure. I  was  very  careful  not  to  let  a  copy  of  "  La 
ReTorme  "  come  to  Bel-Air,  though  my  father  has 
since  read  the  book  and  forgiven  me. 

And  this  is  the  reason  that  I  did  not  want  him  to 
see  Caussidiere.  It  was  a  mistake,  for  he  would  have 
been  pleased, 

I  ordered  the  servant  to  show  Caussidiere  into 
my  own  room.  My  father  only  questioned  me  by  a 
kind  look.  He  had  heard  the  name,  but  he  respected 
my  way  even  in  blaming  it. 

Caussidiere  was  already  up  stairs,  when  I  reached 
there.  I  saw  a  tall  robust  man.  His  very  first  words, 
showed  a  good  nature  tinged  with  acuteness.  He 
seemed  to  have  frequented  bar-rooms  too  often.  But 
was  that  his  fault?  He  must  proselyte,  wherever  he 
could  find  an  audience. 

I  made  him  feel  at  ease  by  lighting  my  pipe,  and 
begging  him  to  draw  his  own  from  his  pocket.  He 
told  me  that  he  was  travelling  for  "  La  Reforme,  " 
and  had  the  goodness  to  say  that  my  romance  was 
very  successful.  He  asked  me  to  get  subscribers  in 


CA  USSIDIERE. 


the  neighborhood  of  Cormatin.  He  could  not  stay 
in  the  country.  The  commissary  of  Police,  at  Macon, 
was  on  his  track.  He  talked  of  the  banquets ;  he 
expected  to  be  present  at  Chalon.  At  that  time, 
there  was  great  rivalry  between  the  republican 
schools,  one  represented  by  the  "  Nationale,  "  Gar- 
nier-Pages  junior,  and  Armand  Marrast ;  the  other, 
by  "  La  Reforme,"  Ledru-Rollin,  Beaune  and  Flocon. 

We  were  for  "  La  Reforme." 

I  tried  to  make  the  conversation  less  general,  and 
asked  him,  if  he  did  not  feel  that  he  was  quite  in  the 
heart  of  the  Republic,  on  the  ground  where  the  "  fete 
des  Girondins  "  had  been  celebrated. 

"  Not  exactly,  "  said  he  smiling,  "  there  are  too 
many  police  there." 

I  recalled  his  words  the  next  February. 

I  told  him  that  the  Republic  would  be  established 
in  that  near  future,  when  any  one  could  say  and 
write  what  Lamartine  was  writing,  and  that  the  only 
objection  against  it,  was  the  fear  of  social  questions 
which  might  arise,  and  "La  Reforme  "  compromised 
the  event,  by  examining  these  too  closely  without 
displaying  a  true  socialistic  flag.  I  wandered  inten- 
tionally among  all  these  troublesome  questions. 

"  I  am  quite  of  your  opinion  "  replied  Caussidiere, 
perhaps  from  kindness.  "  I  write  to  the  editors  every 
day  not  to  frighten  the  middle  class  ;  to  leave  this 
dispute  to  the  schools  that  know  how  to  dispose  of 


120  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

it.  But  I  do  not  believe,  as  you  do,  in  a  Republic 
in  our  Calender." 

"  And  yet  you  proclaim  it,  every  day,  between 
your  two  glasses  of  beer." 

"  I  should  proclaim  it  better  still  between  two 
cannon  balls,  "  said  he  proudly.  "  It  is  a  duty  to 
die,  and  until  one  can  die,  to  speak,  even  if  the  cause 
one  sustains  is  despairing.  I  will  never  betray  the 
people,  by  buttoning  up  under  my  coat  what  is  in 
my  heart.  But  it  is  neither  you  nor  I  who  will  see 
the  consummation. 

"  When  a  man  of  genius  is  put  at  the  head  of  a 
movement,  that  movement  is  in  the  thought  of  God, 
and  he  succeeds,  responded  I.  "  If  you  had  been  here 
the  eighteenth  of  July,  you  would  feel  more  confi- 
dent. The  Revolutions  are  personified  in  a  hero, 
and  we  have  him  among  us." 

"  I  have  heard  Lamartine  speak  at  the  tribune,  " 
he  replied,  "  and  I  will  not  pretend  that  he  has  not 
moved  me  deeply.  His  speech  is  like  the  wind  upon 
the  waves,  and  will  only  raise  the  surface.  The 
waves  make  a  great  noise,  when  they  do  not  carry 
great  fleets.  We  are  not  ready  yet.  We  shut  our- 
selves up  in  our  habits  and  in  our  shops,  like  oysters 
in  their  shells.  So  long  as  the  working  class  will  not 
let  themselves  be  organized  into  regiments,  the  reg- 
ular army,  drawing  its  rations  of  soup  and  good 
shoes,  will  always  beat  us.  I  would  make  a  very 


TALK  OF  THE  REPUBLIC.  121 

good  kind  of  a  sergeant,  but  at  the  moment  of  attack, 
I  should  have  only  the  rabble  at  my  heels.  Unfor- 
tunately for  himself,  and  his  friends,  Lamartine  is  a 
nobleman,  he  has  not  sucked  the  milk  of  the  she- 
uolf.  One  must  suffer,  to  know  how  to  exact  from 
others.  He  will  believe  that  he  had  paid  his  debt  to 
his  country  by  dedicating  to  it  a  strophe.  He  will 
seek  for  a  rhyme  where  he  should  be  seeking  for  a 
cartridge.  He  is  too  brave  ever  to  betray  his  coun- 
try, but  he  will  betray  himself.  He  will  force  Legit- 
imists into  the  Republic,  and  it  will  be  a  fine  thing 
to  see  Marquises  dressed  like  Tiberius  Gracchus." 

"  As  the  future,  perhaps,  will  see  them  dressed  like 
Caussidi£re,"  said  I  laughing. 

I  endeavored  afterwards  to  explain  to  him  that 
our  first  guarantee  to  the  Republic,  should  be  Uni- 
versal Suffrage,  and  that  would  endure  always. 

"  Bah  !  "  he  replied,  with  a  sagacity  almost  clair- 
voyant, "  if  the  suffrage  is  direct,  the  peasants  will 
vote  for  Jocrisse  as  Emperor,  or  King." 

"Time  has  moved  forward.  The  peasants  will  no 
longer  vote  for  Jocrisse  ;  he  has  too  much  blood  on  his 
hands." 

We  talked  again  of  "  La  ReTorme,"  and  finally 
agreed  to  meet  at  the  banquet,  at  Chalon.  In  going 
away,  we  turned-into  the  garden  to  avoid  passing  my 
father's  cabinet.  Caussidiere  walked  slowly,  as  if  he 
had  something  more  to  say. 


122  LA  MA  R  TINE  A  ND  HIS  FRIEND  S. 

"  I  do  not  want  you  to  think,  that  I  am  a  "  sans 
culotte,"  said  he,  at  last  "I  am  travelling  for  busi- 
ness and  the  good  of  the  country,  at  the  same  time. 
I  know  that  the  guillotine  caused  more  shutters  to 
close,  than  heads  to  fall.  I  have  a  bad  face,  but  a 
good  heart,  and  if  I  had  lived  in  his  time,  I  would 
have  walled  up  Marat's  cellar,  and  he  might  have 
drowned  himself  in  his  infectious  inkstand.  I  insist, 
that  the  streets  should  be  free,  and  that  the  cleans- 
ing of  social  vaults  should  not  interfere  with  pure 
respiration.  I  would  make  order  by  the  strength 
of  solid  fists,  if  necessary,  and  if  I  had  been  the 
police  of  Louis  Phillippe,  I  would  have  arrested 
Caussidiere  long  ago.  I  sometimes  drag  a  straw 
mattress  to  the  pawnbrokers,  but  I  do  not  think  that 
we  should  make  a  grand  washing  in  the  castles 
without  the  permission  of  those  who  have  soiled 
the  linen.  If  you  had  a  chateau,  I  would  go  and 
ask  for  soup,  but  I  would  light  nothing  but  my 
pipe.  While  waiting  for  me  to  come,  draw  up  a 
list." 

"  Of  the  prescribed?"  said  I,  taking  his  great 
hand,  and  again  laughing. 

"  No,  subscribers  for  "  La  Reforme."  I  receive 
forty  cents  for  each  subscriber,  One  must  live,  and 
make  people  read  "  Les  Vendeurs  du  Temple." 

We  reached  the  gate.  Some  one  was  ringing. 
I  saw,  with  trepidation,  that  it  was  Lamartine. 


THE  BANQUET  OF  CHALON.  123 

"Will  you  let  me  present  you?  "  said  I  to  Caus- 
sidiere. 

"  No,"  he  replied  reddening,  "  I  smell  too  strong 
of  absinthe." 

I  opened  the  gate  for  Lamartine.  Caussidie>e 
bowed  to  him  and  disappeared.  Four  months  after 
he  was  Prefect  of  Police  under  Lamartine.  I  related 
our  conversation  to  Lamartine,  while  it  was  fresh  to 
me,  a  circumstance  doubtless  powerful  towards  the 
nomination,  which  was  one  of  the  brilliant  actions  of 
the  Revolution  of  February. 

The  banquet  of  Chalon  was  announced  with  great 
commotion.  Lamartine  came  to  talk  over  the  mat- 
ter. His  refusal  to  appear  annoyed  me.  I  thought 
after  the  great  triumph  of  the  "  fete  des  Girondins," 
that  there  could  not  be  a  patriotic  festival  without 
him,  but  I  lament  this  one  occasion  where  his  sover- 
eign word  was  lacking.  I  begged  that  his  absence 
should  not  have  an  appearance  of  disapproval. 

"  That  is  what  it  is,  however,"  said  he.  "  I  do 
not  want  to  combat  Ledru-Rollin  in  public.  I  admire 
him  and  consider  him  a  force  in  the  democracy,  but 
my  sympathies  are  not  with  the  Radicals.  I  do  not 
want  always  to  go  to  the  root  of  the  matter,  and 
hinder  the  flowering. 

"The  tree  consists  of  more  than  what  is  in  the 
ground.  It  has  all  that  can  grow  from  the  sap  it  con- 
tains ;  the  tree  of  Liberty  as  well  as  others.  It  has 


124 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIEXDS. 


a  trunk,  and  branches,  which  I  do  not  pretend  to 
prune.  So  let  us  not  confirm  a  fatal  distinction 
between  Republicans  and  Radicals.  We  do  not 
.want  too  many  of  a  family  to  make  a  people.  Say 
that  for  me.  You  will  do  it  better  than  I." 

This  way  of  speaking  was  habitual  to  him. 

I  went  to  Chalon.  It  was  not  a  festival  of  sun 
and  storm,  that  made  so  striking  a  spectacle  at 
Macon.  The  sky  was  gray  ;  the  space  more  con- 
tracted ;  the  company  not  a  quarter  so  large.  M.  M. 
Ledru-Rollin,  Flocon,  Beaune  and  Caussidiere,  did 
the  honors  of  the  occasion.  Letters  of  regret,  or  non- 
acceptance,  from  Lamartine,  Mathieu,  de  Thiars, 
deputies  of  Saone-et-Loire,  and  Dupont  de  1'Eure, 
did  not  console  the  public  for  their  absence. 

Ledru-Rollin  pronounced  a  magnificent,  though 
rather  exclusive  eulogy  upon  the  Convention.  Lam- 
artine criticized  it  from  a  republican  stand-point,  in 
the  Bien  Public. 

This  is  what  he  said. 

"  We  have  read  M.  Ledru-Rollin's  speech.  It  is 
bold,  eloquent  and  significant.  From  M.  Lediu- 
Rollin's  and  his  friend's  point  of  view,  there  is  much 
to  admire  in  its  appropriateness.  It  is  pure  and 
clear;  it  has  a  firm  fibre  ;  it  contains  a  desire  and  a 
design  ;  there  is  no  disguise  in  it;  it  does  not  psalm- 
odize  in  words  of  cotton  or  snow,  which  fall  noise- 
lessly upon  the  earth,  effacing  all  the  road-ways. 


LEDRU  ROLLIN  125 

M.  Ledru-Rollin  is  comprehensible, — perhaps  too 
much  so,"  etc 

The  great  interest  of  the  day  to  me,  concentrated 
at  M.  Mathey's,  the  deputy  of  Chalon,  who  had  in- 
vited the  famished  orators  to  dine  with  him. 

M.  Mathey  was  afterwards  Commissary  of  the 
Republic,  at  Macon,  where  he  left  many  pleasant 
memories.  He  was  father  of  Alfred  Mathey,  a  friend 
of  Lamartine's,  prefect  of  Ardennes  in  1848,  and  who 
continues  the  paternal  traditions  in  excellence  and 
patriotism. 

There  was  a  large  gathering  at  M.  Mathey's.  A 
quarter  of  the  future  members  of  the  Provisionary 
Governments  were  to  sit  at  the  table,  unconscious  of 
that  immediate  future.  I  regretted  not  having  Caus- 
sidiere  there;  he  would  have  given  character  to  the 
scene.  I  never  had  had  the  honor  of  meeting  M. 
Ledru-Rollin  till  then,  and  have  never  seen  him  since. 
His  voluntary  exile,  for  the  past  twenty  years,  has 
kept  us  apart.  He  was  a  powerful  instrument  in  the 
democratic  ranks,  unhappily  too  long  silent.  Gam- 
betta  evidently  has  restrained  him.  This  silence  is 
like  an  accusation.  The  tribune  is  large  enough  for 
many  voices. 

He  had  made  a  splendid  speech,  and  did  not 
seem  at  all  exhausted.  That  great  chest  held  breath 
enough  for  twenty  speeches,  but  there  were  ladies 
present,  and  he  did  not  impose  upon  them  longer 


126  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

than  to  satisfy  their  curiosity.  He  proved  himself  a 
temperate  and  attractive  speaker,  and  left  the  impres- 
sion of  being  a  thorough  man  of  the  world. 

The  absence  of  Lamartine  was  not  hard  to  bear 
since  it  gave  him  the  first  place.  He  asked  many 
questions  about  the  banquet  of  the  "  Girondins,"  and 
spoke  with  warm  interest  of  the  great  work. 

"  The  greatest  service  that  Lamartine  has  ren- 
dered to  the  public,"  said  he,  "  is,  that  one  can  now 
discuss  Robespierre,  without  being  taken  for  an  an- 
thropophagus." 

Flocon  abandoned  himself  to  his  theories,  and 
frightened  the  ladies. 

"  We  belong  to  the  "  Reds  "  said  he,  using  this 
new  denomination  for  the  first  time,  "  if  we  come  to 
the  power,  our  flag  shall  be  purple." 

The  color  was  ill-chosen,  especially  at  table.  Led- 
ru-Rollin  only  approved  of  it,  outwardly.  Who 
could  have  foretold,  that  in  February  following, 
Flocon  would  have  been  the  most  intrepid  soldier  of 
the  government  in  his  campaign  against  the  red  flag, 
and  that  Lamartine  was  constantly  obliged  to  re- 
animate the  courage  of  Ledru-Rollin,  which  turned 
to  a  moderation  almost  inert. 

After  dinner,  I  went  out  on  the  quay  to  smoke 
with  Flocon.  His  speech  at  the  banquet  produced 
a  marked  effect.  Though  it  was  a  little  too  much 
like  a  newspaper  article.  After  the  initial  conversa- 


FLO  CON:  127 

tion,  I  found  the  man  much  more  gentle  than  his 
doctrine,  and  that  the  terrorist  envelope  was  only  a 
decoration  of  doubtful  taste.  There  was  an  honesty 
about  him,  mixed,  as  it  was,  with  the  odors  of  a 
smoking  room.  The  reaction,  with  its  habitual  frank- 
ness and  moderation,  had  made  him  a  blood-drinker 
when  he  was  only  a  colorer  of  pipes.  He  had  the 
dignity  of  exile,  and  the  recompense  for  his  poverty. 
He  went  out  of  the  Ministry  with  empty  hands,  and 
in  his  exile  among  the  Swiss  mountains  could  hear 
the  nauseating  satire  of  those  whom  he  had  saved, 
but  in  turning  his  ear  towards  a  clearer  horizon,  he 
could  hear  the  voice  of  Lamartine,  who  spoke  of  him 
as  one  of  his  most  esteemed  and  beloved  co-workers. 

We  went  back  to  M.  Mathey's.  Ledru-Rollin 
predicted  that  I  should  represent  the  department  of 
Saone-et-Loire,  an  honor  not  coming  to  me  until 
twenty-three  years  later. 

I  went  home  to  Cormartin,  that  same  evening 
and  told  my  wife  of  the  banquet  and  addresses. 

I  had  heard  many  eloquent  words,  and  shaken 
hands  with  many  strangers,  whom  political  opinions 
had  almost  made  friends,  and  yet  I  had  not  brought 
back  a  gratified  feeling.  I  felt  no  emotion  at  the 
remembrance  of  the  day. 

I  asked  myself  the  reason — 

We  were  all  combatants  for  the  Republic  and  our 
aspirations  were  identical.  Beyond  the  veil,  con- 


I28  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

cealed  from  the  common  gaze,  we  could  see  dynasties 
flying  in  the  distance.  We  had  been  called  citizens 
for  the  first  time,  a  name  perhaps  made  too  common 
since,  but  belonging  to  those  great  gatherings  where 
the  forum  is  improvised,  and  manly,  independent 
speech  is  heard.  But  I  was  not  trustful,  nor  even 
grateful. 

I  could  only  explain  it,  in  one  way. 

God  did  not  enter  into  the  hopes  of  these  men, 
which  without  Him,  were  shadowy  and  irresolute. 
No  free-thinker  is  farther  than  I,  from  the  adoration 
of  dogmas  and  worn-out  practices  of  worship,  but  the 
more  of  a  Republican  I  am,  the  nearer  I  feel  to  God, 
He  is  not  only  the  Light  but  the  fortress  of  our  De- 
mocracy. Without  Him,  without  an  idea  of  Sacrifice 
and  human  responsibility,  Constitutions  are  only  texts 
of  the  law,  monuments  of  sand,  demolished  and  re- 
built by  every  wind  that  ever  blows.  There  is  no 
true  fraternity  in  morality  alone,  and  without  frater- 
ternity,  there  is  no  Republic, 

This  is  my  conviction,  and  I  wish,  without  being 
accused  of  mysticism,  that  I  could  convince  my  co- 
religionists in  Democracy,  of  it. 

Science  has  given  freedom  to  intellectual  order, 
and  unlimited  progress  to  material  order.  It  cannot 
give  the  Ideal.  That,  Lamartine  has  poured  out 
with  a  lavish  hand.  He  is  dead,  and  Hugo  is  no 
longer  at  the  tribune.  Those  who  dare  to  speak 


VICTOR  HUGO. 


129 


God's  name,  lessen  it  by  talking  of  the  Pope,  and 
Veuillot,  does  not  comprehend  Him,  or  misinterprets 
Him  by  making  Him  the  signal  of  all  his  enmities. 
I  see  the  prophets  of  the  past  weeping  around  a  lost 
Jerusalem,  and  I  seek  in  vain  for  the  prophets  of  the 
future,  who,  kindled  by  his  inspiration  will  sing  around 
the  Republic, — the  New  Jerusalem  of  the  people. 

This  prophet  must  appear.  He  sits  in  some 
shadowy  corner,  and  I  am  sure  that  the  day  is  near 
when  he  will  arise.* 

*  He  has  arisen.     Hugo  is  in  the  Senate. 


X. 

The  Republic  of  1848. 

FEBRUARY  22d.  1848,  I  went,  with  M.  Gor- 
mand,  a  dear  old  friend,  who  has  recently  died, 
to  see  L6on  Bruys,  at  Ouilly,  who  was  then  beginning 
to  feel  the  pressure  of  circumstances.  In  the  hope 
of  a  marriage,  which,  certain  as  it  appeared,  never 
was  consummated,  he  had  demolished  his  old  Chateau 
and  built  a  villa  for  an  Italian  Countess  who  was 
never  to  see  it.  He  had  the  imprudence  to  put  his 
sonnets  into  stone,  and  his  fortune  into  illusions. 

He  received  us  at  the  farm  to  which  his  decreas- 
ing income  had  reduced  him.  The  supper  there  was 
merry.  M.  Gormand,  who  had  seen  the  world  under 
the  Empire,  and  had  read  its  history  in  books,  and 
had  been  persecuted  by  the  Restoration  for  his 
radical  opinions,  opened  to  us  a  treasure-house  of 
anecdotes.  Three  beds  were  arranged  in  the  great 
chamber,  and  we  tried,  in  vain,  to  sleep.  We  all 
gave  loose  reins  to  our  imaginations,  that  night.  We 
knew  that  a  Reform  banquet  was  in  preparation  at 
Paris,  and  that  the  Government  had  resolved  to  inter- 
fere. Our  hopes  became  certainties.  In  the  depth 
of  the  woods,  we  heard  the  rumors  of  a  Revolution, 


MACON.  131 

and  the  Republic  was  our  first  thought  and  expres- 
sion. We  held  its  advent  assured,  in  spite  of  all  im- 
probabilities, and  each  of  us  sang  its  praise  in  his  own 
diapason.  There  are  always  germs  of  events  travers- 
ing space.  These,  we  collected,  and  our  confidence 
was  such  that,  though  not  prepared,  we  went  the  next 
day  to  Macon  to  be  nearer  action. 

I  ask  pardon  for  giving  two  chapters  without 
Lamartine,  but  he  is  so  inseparably  connected  with 
all  that  we  did,  that  a  record  of  the  events  of  those 
few  days  seems  necessary  to  what  I  have  yet  to  say 
of  him.  During  that  time  of  action,  we,  his  friends, 
made  it  our  constant  duty  to  be  inspired  by  him. 

Macon  was  full  of  rumors.  The  Revolutionary 
wind  had  risen  beyond  the  walls  of  Paris,  and  was 
blowing  fiercely  all  over  France.  Paris  was  far  away, 
for  the  lines  of  railroad  had  not  yet  been  established, 
and  kept  its  news  to  itself,  but  we  felt  that  something 
terrible  was  going  on. 

The  public  generally  did  not  believe  in  the  fall 
of  the  dynasty.  The  most  daring  only  dreamed  of 
an  electoral  reform,  and  a  change  of  ministry.  Macon, 
having  had  its  "  fete  des  Girondins,"  breathed  the 
renovating  air  of  the  Republic. 

Every  body  was  in  the  street  or  on  the  quay. 
We  knew  nothing  more,  than  that  Lamartine  had 
made  a  great  speech,  and  had  declared  that  the 
"  left  "  would  go  with  him  to  the  prohibited  banquet. 


132 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


We  could  not  control  our  impatience.  We  extem- 
porized democratic  feasts.  The  patriots  gathered 
around  a  long  table,  over  which  were  busts  of  Lam- 

o 

artine,  the  republican  deputy  of  Saone-et-Loire,  and 
Mathieu,  the  learned  brother-in-law  of  Arago.  Many 
ardent  but  prudent  words,  were  spoken  there.  We  did 
not  sleep  that  night.  We  were  sure  that  there  was 
fighting  in  Paris.  The  Revolution  would  have  its 
three  traditional  days  :  so  while  waiting,  we  watched 
on  our  arms. 

The  next  day,  the  government  of  Louis  Philippe 
was  a  dead  letter  at  Macon.  The  soldiers  did  not 
interfere  with  the  public  meetings,  and  cries  of  "  Long 
live  Reform,"  were  heard  on  all  sides.  The  post  had 
not  arrived.  From  the  road,  we  could  see  the  arms 
of  the  telegraph  agitating  convulsively,  but  its  signs 
were  unintelligible.  The  revolt  against  the  despised 
government,  was  fermenting  in  all  hearts.  The  pow- 
erless prefecture,  not  receiving  any  news,  did  not 
dare  to  organize  any  resistance.  An  intelligent  pop- 
ulation could  easily  repress  any  violence  that  might 
break  forth,  but  leaders  were  necessary.  The  city, 
like  all  others,  had  its  proportion  of  liberated  convicts. 
Under  a  pretext  of  patriotism,  crime  might  burst  all 
restraints.  Suspicious  groups  were  already  threaten- 
ing to  throw  M.  Delmas,  the  prefect,  into  the  Saone, 
and  to  set  fire  to  some  of  the  convents.  Rolland,  in 
his  capacity  as  Mayor,  provided  against  the  first 


THE  PREFECTORIAL  COMMISSION.  133 

danger.  A  popular  assembly  was  convoked  at  the 
Hotel-de-Ville,  and  a  prefectorial  commission  of 
twelve,  was  formed.  As  it  is  a  part  of  our  local  his- 
tory, I  will  give  their  names.  MM.  Carteron,  Senton, 
Bruys  D'Ouilly,  Saclier,  Foillard,  Bouchard,  Ordinaire, 
Hippolyte  Boussin,  Henri  de  Lacretelle,  Sambin,  Ver- 
saud,  Chanorier. 

Our  first  duty  was  to  install  ourselves,  in  the 
prefecture,  dispossess  the  prefect,  and  assume  the 
direction  of  the  government.  We  were  still  in  com- 
plete ignorance  of  the  state  of  affairs  at  Paris. 

There  was  a  dangerous  possibility  that  the  Re- 
public had  been  overcome.  In  such  a  case,  we  would 
be  shot.  Bugeaud  was  said  to  be  a  prompt  man. 

However,  if  patriotism  was  not  manifested,  blood 
would  flow,  and  the  torch  would  be  applied. 

Lamartine's  name  was  mingled  in  the  struggle, 
and  in  order  that  he  should  not  die  in  a  wretched 
failure,  it  was  important,  that  the  movement  should 
take  a  republican  character.  We  had  been  working 
for  years  for  this  result,  by  every  throb  of  the  heart. 
None  of  us  hesitated.  It  was  night. 
We  went  to  the  Prefecture.  The  concierge  opened 
wide  the  doors.  We  appealed  to  M.  Delmas,  in  the 
name  of  the  people,  of  the  future,  and  of  public  Con- 
cord. He  showed  himself  a  man  of  sense,  and  though 
warning  us  that  we  were  playing  a  dangerous  game, 
did  not  resist.  He  suspected  perhaps,  that  he  might 


'34 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


be  threatened.  We  allowed  him  to  remain  as  a 
private  citizen  as  long  as  he  thought  agreeable,  guar- 
anteeing his  security  upon  our  honor. 

He  had  not  unlimited  confidence  in  the  solidity  of 
his  government,  and  he  was  -thinking,  too,  of  a  future 
reaction.  The  Prefects  had  no  desire  to  sacrifice 
themselves  for  Louis  Philippe.  Sacrifices  were  re- 
served for  St.  Etienne,  in  1871,  and  for  the  Republic. 
M.  Delmas  resigned  officially.  He  summoned  the 
Chiefs  of  the  service,  and  put  the  direction  into  our 
hands. 

We  were  to  sleep  at  the  Prefecture. 
There  were  now  twelve  prefects.     As  many  of 
my  colleagues  are  still  living,  without  fear  of  offense 
I  shall  simply  say,  that  some  were  men  of  great  intel- 
ligence, and  all  were  men  of  courage. 

This  sudden  stroke  of  policy  had  not  been  unwise. 
Holland  aided  our  inexperience  by  his  counsels.  He 
thought  it  was  useless  for  all  to  remain  at  the  Pre- 
fecture that  night,  and  finally  the  choice  fell  upon 
Bruys  and  myself. 

By  request,  the  Colonel  of  the  National  Guard 
had  put  two  companies  at  our  disposal.  We  had 
seen  the  general,  M.  de  Lostende,  and  had  demanded 
the  disbandment  of  the  regiments  at  once.  As  a 
loyal  soldier,  he  refused,  but  his  attitude  assured  us 
that  we  had  nothing  to  fear  from  their  bayonets. 
We  were  finally  settled  in  the  private  office  of  the 


FEBR  VARY  <2.t,th  AT  MA  CON.  \  3  5 

Prefect,  and,  for  hours,  there  was  a  constant  coming 
and  going  with  orders.  When  this  ceased,  I  said 
to  Bruys, 

"  Thou  wilt  sleep  in  the  Easy-Chair  and  I  will 
stand  watch." 

He  looked  at  me  with  surprise.  He  was  many 
years  older  than  I,  and  this  was  the  first  time  that  I 
had  ever  used  the  intimate  form  of  address, 

"  I  take  advantage  of  the  revolutionary  period," 
said  I.  "Since  we  share  the  same  danger,  I  feel  that  I 
love  thee  too  well  to  say  "  You." 

He  held  out  both  hands  to  me,  and  responded 
most  earnestly. 

"  I  shall  bless  the  Republican  era  for  this," 
said  he.  "  I  do  not  believe  that  I  can  sleep.  Who 
knows  what  will  happen  to  Lamartine  in  this  fiery 
ordeal  ?  " 

"  Lamartine,  dying  for  Liberty,  will  surpass  all  the 
glories  of  history,"  said  I,  "  and  there  is  no  doubt  but 
that  we  shall  be  wrapped  in  a  corner  of  his  shroud." 

"  You  take  a  mournful  view  of  affairs.  You  are 
thinking  of  your  wife.  I  have  just  made  a  journey 
into  Switzerland,  and  have  a  passport.  You  may  take 
it.  I  am  a  bachelor,  you  know." 

"  As  you  prove  every  day,"  said  I  trying  to  laugh, 
for  a  diversion.  "  I  shall  not  leave  the  post  of  danger 
any  sooner  than  you.  I  have  other  anxieties  than  my 
wife.  My  father,  mother  and  brother  are  in  Paris 


136  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

Strong  excitement  are  sometimes  fatal  to  aged  people. 
My  fear  is  paralysis  or  a  stroke  of  apoplexy,  and 
then  my  father  could  never  forgive  me,  for  protesting 
against  the  established  government.  The  very  name 
of  Republic  is  a  horror  to  him." 

"  In  your  anxieties,  you  misjudge  him.  The 
second  Republic  will  pardon  the  first,  in  the  most 
prejudiced  mind,  if  Lamartine  directs  it.  Your  father 
will  honor  you,  for  having  obeyed  your  convictions.'5 

I  felt  that  he  was  right,  and  that  I  was  only  doing 
my  duty,  though  my  father's  eighty-two  years  were 
constantly  before  me. 

"  After  all,"  said  I,  to  myself,  "  if  Paris  is  a  coward, 
and  France  is  indifferent,  it  will  be  a  proud  thought 
for  us  all,  to  have  proclaimed  the  Republic  in  Lam- 
artine's  own  city.  In  all  reason  the  question  must 
be  settled  to-morrow.  Let  us  prepare  for  it.  Let 
the  provincial  movement  go  from  here." 

I  took  up  a  pen  to  write  an  announcement,  to  sub- 
mit to  my  colleagues.  A  hasty  step  was  heard, 
others  soon  followed.  The  National  Guard  entered. 
They  tell  us  that  the  convicts  mean  to  set  fire  to  M. 
Courteau's  house.  "Will  you  come  ?  " 

This  question  of  convicts  was  constantly  rising. 
It  was  time  that  the  government  should  take  hold  of 
it  and  make  some  kind  of  a  law,  ensuring  social  secu- 
rity, as  well  as  the  regeneration  of  these  creatures. 
M.  Courteau  had  brought  upon  himself  great  un- 


NE  WS  FROM  PARIS  \  37 

popularity,  as  mayor,  a  few  years  before,  so  that  an 
attempt  against  his  house  was  not  unlikely. 

We  called  two  other  companies,  and  hastened  to 

jthe  threatened  quarter.     All  was  absolutely  tranquil. 

The  streets  were    deserted.     Excited    imaginations 

had  seen  torches,  where  there  was  not  even  a  lantern. 

There  were  no  other  incidents  that  night. 

The  next  day,  the  most  contradictory  rumors  were 
heard  everywhere.  Travellers  coming  from  Chalon 
said  that  the  Republic  was  declared  officially  at  Paris, 
and  that  Emmanuel  Arago  had  passed  through  the 
city,  by  post,  to  take  possession  of  the  Prefecture  at 
Lyons.  Other  said  that  Louis  Philippe  had  with- 
drawn to  Vincennes,  and  was  preparing  to  bombard 
Paris  from  the  forts,  and  that  the  Council  of  Magis- 
trates would  make  short  work  of  the  rebels.  This  was 
only  a  stronger  reason  for  us  to  decide.  A  large 
meeting  was  called  at  the  Hotel-de-Ville.  The  same 
names  were  proclaimed,  and  we  asked  to  have  M. 
Pissere's  added,  as  the  working  class  should  be  repre- 
sented. 

The  post  arrived  at  noon.  We  received  procla- 
mations of  the  Republican  Provisionary  Government 
signed  Lamartine,  Dupont  de  1'Eure,  Arago,  Ledru- 
Rollin,  Louis  Blanc,  and  Flocon.  It  displayed  the 
red  flag.  Personally  we  were  safe,  but  this  red  flag 
floated  before  us  like  an  evil  omen.  We  were  not 
men  of  that  color.  We  foresaw  the  tragic  scenes  of 


138  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

the  Hotel-de-Ville,  where  Lamartine  as  dictator,  by 
his  courage  and  the  power  of  his  word  caused  the 
furious  crowd  to  lay  down  the  axes  they  had  raised 
against  him,  and  lower  the  red  flag  that  they  would 
have  forced  upon  France  ;  where  he  so  filled  their,*' 
hearts  with  his  own  ardor  and  clemency,  that  for  two 
months,  the  name  of  Lamartine  was  the  only  one  upon 
their  lips. 

Many  words  spoken  from  the  steps  of  the  Hotel- 
de-Ville  during  the  tempest  of  February,  have  already 
been  published.  The  episode  of  the  red  flag  is  only 
one  of  many  grand  speeches  sent  into  the  midst  of 
the  tumult.  A  story  will  be  written  of  that  in  the 
course  of  events. 

Here  is  another,  which  prevented  the  first  blood- 
shed, that  afterwards  flowed  like  a  river. 

One  day  in  March,  workshops  were  fermenting 
either  for  want  of  occupation,  or  in  the  miasma  of 
sinister  theories.  An  immense  concourse  of  men 
thronged  the  place,  crying  "  Vengeance  !  Death  to 
Lamartine  !"  He  descended  at  once.  The  crowd 
redoubled  their  imprecations,  and  gesticulations. 
They  were  ready  to  throw  him  to  the  wild  beasts. 
He  walked  steadily  forward,  until  he  was  in  the 
midst  of  those  picks,  and  axes,  still  bearing  the  rust 
of  1793- 

"  You  ask  for  the  head  of  Lamartine,"  he  cried. 

"Yes!     Yes!" 


PROGRESS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.  139 

"  Would  to  heaven,  you  had  it  on  your  own  shoul- 
ders! You  would  be  less  insane,  and  you  would  not 
extinguish  the  light  of  the  Republic  in  its  dawning  !  '* 

He  knew  that  his  eloquence  was  a  sovereign  force 
to  disarm.  Their  souls  were  moved,  and  Lamartine 
had  only  to  stretch  out  his  hands  to  their  lips. 

What  a  magnificent  government  is  that  having 
no  other  Praetorian  Guard  than  Courage  and  Genius! 
We  received  the  news  of  what  was  happening,  with 
great  enthusiasm.  During  the  first  week,  there  was 
nothing  but  an  exchange  of  patriotic  sentiments. 
We  seemed  to  breathe  in  a  higher  atmosphere. 
Truth  shed  its  glorious  light  upon  all  sides.  Every 
day  was  more  lustrous.  The  Emancipation  of  Slaves, 
the  Abolition  of  Capital  Punishment,  Universal  Suf- 
frage ;  with  these  acts  we  would  found  a  government 
fit  for  saints,  and  philosophers.  Hearts  expanded 
from  the  influence  of  the  Republic  dwelling  in  them. 
Let  those  who  since  then,  have  thrown  the  venom  of 
their  hatred  against  the  men  of  the  Hotel-de-Ville, 
show  us  a  sovereign  who  has  given  the  people  greater 
proof  of  generosity  and  wisdom. 

We  did  our  best  to  impregnate  our  administrative 
acts  with  the  spirit  of  democratic  benevolence.  We 
did  not  appoint  new  Mayors  any  where,  nor  did  we 
displace  those  that  the  people  sustained,  even  if  they 
had  served  under  another  regime. 

We  held  popular  meetings  to  explain  republican 


140 


LA  MAR  TINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


principle  and  Universal  suffrage. — We  preached  Con- 
cord ;  we  encouraged  associations  ;  we  extracted  the 
bitterness  from  irritating  questions  ;  we  aided  labor, 
and  established  a  practical  brotherhood.  We  rose 
early,  to  announce  the  progress  of  the  Republic,  and 
lay  down  late,  to  assure  a  repose  for  all. 

There  were  some  bright  spots  in  our  serious 
movements,  and  in  our  duties.  Dr.  Carteron,  a  true 
Gaul,  presided.  Dr.  Bouchard  improvised  beautiful 
verses,  and  Dr.  Ordinaire — too  many  physicians, 
alas  !  for  a  Republic  which  appeared  to  have  a  robust 
Constitution, — cheered  us  by  his  vivid  imagination. 

There  was  quite  a  rivalry  between  Macon,  and 
Chalon.  One  day,  the  "  Moniteur  "  brought  to  us 
the  news  of  the  nomination  of  two  Chalonnais,  as 
special  Commissaries  of  the  Republic. 

"  Ye  great  Gods  !  exclaimed  M.  Carteron.  "  Two 
Carthagenians  at  Rome  !  " 

The  convent  of"  Les  Filles-Repenties  "  was  hated, 
partly  because  it  was  a  convent,  and  partly  because 
it  competed  with  free  labor.  There  were  threatening 
demonstrations.  We  protected  the  nuns  against  the 
riots,  although  they  were  more  frightened  than  they 
had  any  reason  to  be.  We  were  obliged  to  foresee 
and  provide  against  any  excess,  and  so  it  was  decided, 
that  the  holy  house  should  be  vacated.  I  was  de- 
tailed to  take  charge  of  the  expedition.  It  was  with 
a  good  deal  of  repugnance  that  I  accepted  a  commis- 


LES  FILLES-REPENTIES.  141 

sion,  likely  to  make  me  very  ridiculous.  The  Hospital 
had  offered  a  refuge  to  the  prescripts.  Curiosity 
had  collected  a  great  crowd  of  people,  who  wanted 
to  see  the  young  culprits,  whom  Religion  claimed  to 
have  drawn  from  vice,  while  at  the  same  time,  she 
drew  from  them  a  lucrative  profit.  This  crowd  might 
suddenly  be  transformed  into  a  dangerous  element. 

The  sisters  were  at  the  apex  of  terror.  They 
pretended  to  think  that  the  soldiers  we  had  stationed 
to  protect  them  from  insult,  had  come  to  massacre. 
The  door  opened  only  in  the  name  of  the  law.  The 
Mother-Superior,  threw  herself  at  my  feet,  beseeching 
me  to  save  them. 

"  That  is  what  we  are  here  for,"  said  I,  "  get 
ready,  and  follow  me  !  The  sisters  at  the  Hospital 
are  expecting  you  there." 

"  But  the  walk,  sir.  The  people  will  kill  us, 
because  the  Republic  takes  us  away.  I  will  not 
expose  my  daughters  to  their  vengeance.  Kill  me 
on  the  spot !  " 

I  was  not  touched  by  this  appeal :  the  fright  did 
not  seem  sincere. 

"  The  Republic,"  said  I,  "  is  a  guarantee  for  your 
goods  and  your  lives,  and  I  have  come,  in  its  name, 
to  take  you  away." 

"  The  house  will  be  pillaged,  if  we  leave  it.  These 
people  are  only  robbers,  and  will  violate  the  goods 
of  the  church." 


142 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


She  cried  very  loud,  and  I  was  afraid  that  her 
lavish  epithets  would  excite  indignation.  The  whole 
house  was  in  tears.  They  cried  according  to  rule, 
while  in  their  hearts,  they  laughed,  as  the  result  of 
the  tumult  might  be  their  liberty.  I  said  to  the 
superior,  if  she  prolonged  the  scene,  I  should  remove 
her  by  force.  She  raised  her  eyes  to  heaven,  invoked 
all  the  Saints  in  the  Calendar,  and  then  proceeded  to 
pack  her  valise — with  preserves. 

The  people,  outside,  were  singing,  and  the  soldiers 
were  disposed  to  be  a  little  gallant,  a  demonstration 
that  I  was  obliged  to  crush.  To  bring  a  body  of 
armed  men  against  women,  was  not  an  agreeable 
thing  to  do.  So  I  removed  the  company,  and,  in  a 
few  hours  we  were  on  the  road  to  the  Hospital.  A 
double  row  of  idle  spectators  were  waiting  to  see  us 
pass.  I  wore  my  scarf  as  magistrate,  and  walked  at 
the  head  of  the  weeping  column.  I  looked  round 
once  in  a  while,  wishing  that  I  was  a  hundred  miles 
away.  The  scene  was  absurd,  but  the  question  in- 
volved was  grave,  and  one  that  was  to  come  directly 
under  my  supervision. 

A  young  girl  with  a  Raphaelesque  head,  and  a 
face  brightened  by  a  smile  of  apparent  sincerity, 
detached  herself,  little  by  little,  from  the  group  of 
penitents,  and  walked  beside  me.  She  related  her 
story,  how  she  had  been  deceived  by  the  father  of  a 
family,  where  she  worked  by  the  day.  The  scandal 


PROGRESS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.  143 

filled  the  quarter,  and  she  was  shut  up  in  a  convent, 
where  they  promised  to  restore  her  virtue.  They 
sent  her  to  Macon,  where  she  was  badly  treated.  She 
begged  me  to  let  her  go,  assuring  me  of  her  lasting 
gratitude.  She  plead  in  the  name  of  her  youth,  her 
eighteen  years,  and  she  was  as  ready  with  her  co- 
quetry, as  with  her  tears.  Her  supplications  were 
accompanied  by  gestures,  strongly  resembling  ca- 
resses. The  public  eye  was  upon  us  and  it  may  be 
that  my  sincerity  was  doubted.  The  Superior  did 
not  interfere,  hoping,  unquestionably,  that  such  an 
advocate,  would  be  useful  to  the  rest  of  the  company. 
I  hurried  towards  the  Hospital,  and  recommended 
the  penitent  to  the  care  of  the  Sisters,  and  came  back 
to  the  Prefecture,  thinking  that  Leon  Bruys  would 
have  been  much  more  embarrassed,  if  he  had  had  to 
deal  with  such  a  fascinating  petitioner. 

That  same  evening,  I  was  at  the  Hotel-de-Ville 
with  Rolland.  The  Commissary  of  Police  of  the  old 
government,  whom  the  people  hated  for  his  zeal  in 
arresting,  came  silently  into  the  shadows  of  the  cor- 
ridors, to  tell  Rolland  that  his  degradation  had  taken 
the  bread  from  the  mouths  of  his  family. 

He  asked  for  a  letter  to  Caussidi6re,  stating  that 
he  had  been  honest  in  his  duties.  There  was  nothing 
to  say  against  his  private  character.  The  Mayor  was 
touched,  and  the  letter  was  written.  There  was  great 
indignation,  when  the  people  heard  of  this.  They 


144 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS, 


blamed  Rolland,  but  exonerated  him  in  a  few  days. 
The  old  commissary  went  to  Paris,  and  boldly  pre- 
sented his  letter  to  the  Prefect  of  Police.  Caussi- 
diere  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  read  it. 

"  I  recognize  you,"  said  he,  "  You  followed  me 
very  diligently,  two  months  ago,  in  the  time  of  Louis 
Philippe.  I  need  a  man  like  you,  and  nominate  you 
to  the  Palais  Royale  quarter." 

Caussidiere  thus  made  the  Republic  without 
Republicans. 

The  story  circulated,  and  the  laughers  were  all  on 
Rolland's  side. 

However,  there  was  an  end  to  the  functions  of 
the  Intermediate  Commission.  M.  Mathey  was 
nominated  Prefect  of  Saone-et-Loire,  and  the  rest 
of  us  scattered  ourselves  throughout  the  department, 
to  prepare  the  elections  for  the  Constituents.  It  was 
a  question  of  turning  the  minds  of  the  people  towards 
the  Republic,  and  of  instructing  them.  M.  Mathey 
as  a  loyal  and  experienced  democrat,  helped  us  in 
our  task,  by  the  public  information  that  he  sent. 

Bruys,  and  I  did  our  proselyting  through  our 
newspaper,  with  which  we  inundated  the  country. 
We  felt  that  we  were  to  be  candidates,  by  obligation, 
as  well  as  by  the  friendship  of  Lamartine.  An  elec- 
toral commission,  formed  at  Paris,  arranged  every- 
thing without  consulting  the  departments.  The  list 
o£  candidates  passed  without  protest  and  our  two 


CHAMPVANS.  145 

names  were  not  on  it.  To  be  sure,  we  had  only  the 
voice  of  one  canton,  but  that  was  unanimous. 

Champvans  had  just  been  nominated  representa- 
tive in  the  department  of  Ain.  His  advancement 
had  been  rapid.  He  was  chosen  prefect  of  the  Re- 
public at  Bourg.  From  the  very  beginning,  he  gave 
the  fever  to  his  whole  department.  Even  now,  when 
I  think  of  him  at  Gand,  I  do  not  doubt  his  sincerity 
at  that  time.  Once,  he  was  at  Nantes,  haranguing 
the  people.  A  providential  storm  accompanied  his 
resonant  voice.  As  the  wind  howled  through  the 
cliffs  around  the  lake,  he  exclaimed. 

"  Even  should  this  rock  fall  upon  my  head,  it  will 
not  keep  me  from,  crying,  "  Long  live  the  Republic  ?  " 

Ledru  Rollin,  who  disorganized  his  prefectures 
trying  to  fortify  them,  sent  M.  Anselme  Petetin  to 
Bourg,  as  a  special  commissary.  Champvans  sus- 
pected the  future  functionary  of  the  Empire,  and 
could  not  forgive  Lamartine  for  allowing  an  inspector 
to  be  placed  over  him.  He  sent  in  his  resignation 
with  a  great  flourish,  and  went  out  of  the  Prefecture, 
dramatically  carrying  his  baby's  cradle,  thus  giving 
the  budding  reaction  an  opportunity  of  making  a 
profit  out  of  his  misfortune.  He  was  sent  to  the 
Constituante. 

I  tell  these  things  without  mercy,  because  Champ- 
vans  has  now  a  reputation,  and  if  a  mind  less  pre- 
judiced, had  admitted  that  Lamartine  with  the  weight 


146  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

of  France  upon  his  shoulders,  could  not  occupy  him- 
self with  his  friends,  a  natural  sensibility  was  justified 
in  feeling  wounded  at  this  lack  of  confidence. 

Champvans  gradually  passed  over  to  the  Legiti- 
mists, and  to  the  church.  But  he  made  a  good  war 
against  the  Empire,  and  in  spite  of  what  he  is  to-day 
or  whatever  may  be  our  personal  political  griefs,  we 
cannot  help  admiring  him,  nor  can  we  help  seeing 
him — in  the  past,  as  one  of  the  soldiers  of  the  De- 
mocracy. 

Lamartine  did  not  forget  his  disciples,  though 
some  of  them,  Adolphe  de  La  Tour  among  others, 
were  left  in  a  lamentable  inaction.  We  had  not  yet 
adopted  the  Republic  without  Republicans.  Abbe 
Thyons,  I  have  already  said,  was  sent  as  Consul  to 
Bucharest.  Dr.  Pascal  received  a  nomination  as 
Prefect  of  Allier,  but  declined,  not  caring  to  abandon 
a  lucrative  practice.  His  nephew,  our  much  to  be 
regretted  friend,  Felix  Mornand,  was  Commissary 
of  the  Republic  in  the  South.  Lamartine  was  kind 
enough  to  write  to  me,  proposing  a  diplomatic  mis- 
sion to  Italy,  giving  me  a  choice  of  residence.  I 
have  his  letter  yet  among  many  others  in  that  dear 
hand-writing. 

Owing  to  sickness  in  my  family,  I  was  kept  at 
Cormatin,  and  did  not  witness  the  Revolution  of 
February  on  its  own  theatre,  for  which  I  never  can 
console  myself.  It  would  be  necessary  to  go  to  Italy 


PARIS  IN  MA  Y.  147 

at  once,  and  I  £ould  not,  then,  take  my  wife.  More- 
over, it  was  March,  and  the  choice  of  candidates  had 
not  been  made.  I  believed  that  I  had  a  chance,  and 
felt  that  I  could  do  more  for  the  Democracy  in  Par- 
liament, than  I  could  in  the  Legation.  The  honor 
of  a  title,  was  not  a  sufficient  inducement,  and  for  the 
first  time,  I  refused  Lamartine.  He  approved  of  it, 
nine  months  after.  I  certainly  should  have  resigned 
December  tenth,  and  it  would  have  been  a  loss  of 
time  for  the  small  satisfaction  of  writing  on  my  card, 
"  Ex-minister  of  France  to  Italy/' 

We  went  to  Paris,  at  the  end  of  May.  It  was  as 
stormy  as  an  ocean  between  two  tempests.  The 
Republic,  as  was  its  duty,  allowed  itself  to  be  attacked 
by  an  insolent  reaction.  Lamartine  had  begun  to 
descend  from  his  height.  For  his  prudence  and  gen- 
erosity, which  had  kept  him  from  putting  Ledru- 
Rollin  aside,  he  received  only  the  fifth  place  in  the 
Executive  Commission.  In  this  way  was  he  re- 
warded, who  had  been  sent  by  twelve  departments, 
and  to  whom  the  bourgeoisie  of  Paris,  half-crazy  with 
fear,  after  the  eighteenth  of  May,  would  have  given 
the  crown,  and  whom  the  National  Guard  had  pro- 
claimed through  the  streets,  crying,  "  Long  live  King 
Lamartine." 

I  found  him  one  morning,  in  his  little  cabinet,  at 
Faubourg  St.  Germain,  a  king  indeed,  but,  happily, 
without  a  sceptre.  I  never  saw  him  in  such  a  state 


I48  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

0?  excitement.  He  had  just  learned  that  the  man  of 
Strasburg  and  Boulogne  had  asked  for  a  candidacy 
to  return  to  France.  Lamartine  was  hurrying  to  the 
Assembly  to  oppose  the  measure  with  all  his  power 
and  eloquence.  I  went  with  him.  The  drive  was 
one  continuous  invective.  He  predicted  all  that  has 
happened,  the  insanity  of  the  people,  the  ruin  of  the 
Republic,  the  Restoration  of  the  Empire,  the  orgies, 
the  bloodshed,  the  conquest  and  the  invasion.  He 
could  not  have  been  more  eloquent  at  the  tribune 
than  he  was  in  the  carriage.  The  repeal  of  the  law 
of  banishment  was  voted,  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts. 
Several  days  after,  I  was  at  the  Bois  de  Boulogne, 
where  he  had  lived  for  the  past  three  years.  A  guard 
was  before  the  door,  and  in  the  court. 

There  was  no  longer  a  tempest  in  Paris,  but  regu- 
lar waves  of  people  dashing  themselves  against  an  un- 
known and  uncertain  shore.  M.  de  Falloux,  who 
was  skilled  in  sapping  the  Republic,  had  obtained  the 
abolition  of  the  national  workshops,  and  thus,  pub- 
lished a  decree  of  famine  to  two  hundred  thousand 
workmen. 

Lamartine  was  less  troubled  this  day.  He  felt 
that  a  battle  was  imminent,  but  he  trusted  to  the 
word  of  Cavaignac,  the  Minister  of  War,  who  told  the 
Government  a  dozen  times  a  day  that  an  army  was 
on  its  way  to  Paris.  Lamartine  did  not  forget  out- 
side matters  in  his  care  for  those  nearer  home.  He 


BARRICADES  AGAIN,  149 

announced  that  instructions  were  to  be  sent  for  ar 
army  to  descend  into  Italy.  He  counted  as  much 
upon  the  effect  of  his  Manifestoes  to  Europe  as  upon 
regiments,  for  the  prompt  solution  of  the  Austrian 
question.  He  no  longer  confided  in  Pius  Ninth 
as  an  auxiliary  of  the  Republic.  Was  he  perfectly 
sincere  as  Head  of  the  Government,  in  the  hope  that 
he  openly  expressed  to  those  who  pressed  about  him 
to  hear  what  he  had  to  say  ? 

The  barricades  arose  the  next  day.  They  were 
not  the  result  of  popular  defiance  against  a  govern- 
ment. They  sprang  from  social  questions,  for  which 
there  was  no  solution.  They  came  from  empty  work- 
shops, from  impossibility  to  find  work,  from  cries  of 
starving  children  and  despairing  mothers.  They 
came,  more  especially,  from  those  hideous  recepta- 
cles of  Bonapartist  gold  that,  mixed  with  blood  and 
filth,  was  poured  into  the  hands  of  those  unfortu- 
nate creatures,  who  were  ignorant  of  its  source,  by 
those  who  afterwards  were  to  direct  the  massacres 
of  1851. 

These  barricades  arose,  almost  without  resistance, 
and  in  front  of  scarcely  three  regiments,  for  the 
Minister  of  War  had  been  deceived,  and  the  battle, 
now  ready,  depended  upon  the  responsibility  of  a 
divided  National  Guard,  and  a  precarious  temporary 
guard. 

I  went  to  rue  de  TUniversite"  and  met  Pelletan  at 


LAM 'AR  TINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


the  foot  of  the  stairs.  I  asked  him  about  this  irra- 
tional crime  against  the  Republic. 

"  It  is  no  longer  a  question  of  the  Republic,"  he 
replied.  "  Tis  a  society  that  is  agonized  and  a  Cor- 
sican  banditti  loading  its  muskets.  Lamartine  has 
just  gone  to  meet  Death." 

I  went  up  stairs.  Mme.  de  Lamartine  was  very 
pale,  but  it  was  more  for  sorrow  at  the  destruction 
of  Paris,  than  fear  of  personal  safety.  Lamartine 
had  no  need  of  encouragement,  but  tears  in  his  wife's 
eyes  would  have  disheartened  him,  so  the  tears  never 
came.  Her  soul  lived  only  in  her  husband's.  Though 
a  foreigner  and  an  aristocrat,  she  had  just  said  to 
him,  "  I  have  seen  your  death  in  the  Republic,  and 
I  have  also  seen  your  honor.  Go  !  Long  live  the 
Republic  !  " 

What  he  said  that  day  in  the  insurrectionary 
Faubourgs  ;  the  kisses  upon  his  hands,  the  women 
kneeling  before  his  horse,  the  balls  that  he  barely 
escaped,  the  despair  of  that  great  voice  which  could 
not  prevent  the  adoration  of  the  deceived,  nor  the 
imprecations  of  mercenaries,  those  only  know,  who 
with  their  cries,  followed  the  fatal  course,  but  they 
are  all  dead  upon  the  barricades. 

Lamartine  went  back  home  in  despair.  It  was 
that  despair  which  tempted  the  ancients  to  suicide ; 
but  God  who  imposes  life  as  an  inevitable  burden, 
sustained  him. 


JUNE  24/A.  151 

I  could  not  go  to  him. 

After  four  day's  battle,  during  which  there  was 
heroism  on  both  sides,  summary  executions,  generals 
killed,  an  archbishop  assassinated,  a  city  laid  waste 
by  cannon-balls,  they  told  us  that  the  Republic  was 
victorious. 

It  was  dead. 

I  add  a  few  details  given  me  by  my  friend,  Count 
de  Tr£veneuc,  a  friend  of  Carrel's,  who,  though  wear- 
ing a  uniform,  moved,  and  still  moves,  more  by  reason 
than  predilection,  towards  the  Republic.  He  had 
been  presented  to  Lamartine,  at  the  Assembly,  but 
by  reason  of  his  youth,  had  not  received  much 
attention. 

The  24th  of  June  he  came  to  rue  de  1'Universite, 

"  What  do  you  want?"  said  Lamartine  hastily,  "  I 
have  no  time  to  listen  to  you,  I  am  going  to  the 
barricades." 

"  I  am  going  with  you." 

"  I  have  no  horse  to  offer  you.  Mme.  de  Lamar- 
tine's  is  already  lent  to  Prince  Pierre  who  goes  with 
me." 

Pierre  Bonaparte,  then  representative,  and  sitting 
on  the  extreme  left,  had  placed  himself  at  Lamartine's 
disposal,  and  had  been  accepted  on  account  of  the 
importance  of  his  name.  M.  de  TreVeneuc,  and 
Pierre  Bonaparte  were  friends,  and  were  going  to  the 
same  massacre.  They  pressed  each  other's  hands. 


152  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

"  I  have  hired  a  horse  of  Duplot,"  replied  the 
Breton,  "  and  I  am  ready  to  go  too." 

From  the  first,  it  was  evident  that  Lamartine  went 
forth  to  meet  a  ball.  His  tall  figure  was  well-known. 
The  streets,  emptied  by  civil  war,  had  few  passers. 
They  saw  in  Lamartine's  presence,  an  official  state- 
ment of  an  hour  of  peril. 

Lamartine  went  directly  towards  the  Hotel-de- 
Ville,  where  he  found  nothing  to  do.  There  was  no 
fighting  yet,  and  it  was  the  battle  he  was  seeking. 
He  soon  found  it,  or  at  least  there  was  shooting  near 
the  canal  St.  Martin,  at  the  corner  of  rue  St.  Maur, 
in  front  of  a  high  barricade.  A  yelling,  and  threat- 
ening crowd  were  loading  themselves  with  paving 
stones.  The  horses  could  not  advance  one  step, 
Speech  was  interrupted  by  frequent  shots.  It  was 
there  where  the  attempt  was  made  to  speak,  and  the 
few  cries  of  "  Vive  Lamartine,"  and  the  imprecations, 
of  which  I  have  spoken.  There  were  no  soldiers  to  con- 
tend with,  and  a  few  shots  were  fired  upon  the  group. 

"  Lamartine  preserved  his  calmness,"  said  M.  de 
TreVeneuc,  "  in  the  midst  of  the  falling  balls.  M. 
Duclerc,  the  courageous  and  skilful  Minister  of  Fi- 
nance shared  our  danger — An  editor  of  the  "  Sie"cle," 
who  had  joined  us,  besought  Lamartine  to  withdraw. 
His  only  reply  was  a  pressure  of  the  hand.  It  seemed 
as  if  that  was  to  be  his  place  of  apothesis,  and  that 
by  his  death,  the  Republic  would  live. 


JUNE  zyi.  153 

Pierre  Bonaparte's  horse  fell  with  a  fractured  knee. 
Lamartine  came  to  me,  and  said  in  a  low  tone,  "Tr6- 
veneuc,  remember  this  and  repeat  it.  I  lost  my 
popularity,  and  afflicted  you  all,  when  I  asked  you  to 
put  Ledru-Rollin  on  the  Executive  Commission.  It 
was  important  that  this  force  should  be  with  us  for 
the  days  that  I  saw  approaching.  It  is  here.  The 
Republic  will  triumph  in  the  end.  I  shall  have  broken 
nothing  in  its  bonds." 

The  Liberator  Death  was  not  to  come  that  day. 
Lamartine  was  obliged  to  go  back  to  Paris,  so  as  not 
to  prolong  a  scene  that  only  exhausted  all  heroism. 

On  the  Boulevard,  he  was  surrounded  by  a  squad 
of  Cavalry.  At  rue  de  la  Paix,  a  gathering  more 
ignoble,  though  of  a  higher  class,  cried  "Vive  1'Em- 
pereur."  Pierre  Bonaparte,  the  witnesses  say,  horse- 
whipped them. 


XL 


The  Address  at  Cor  matin. 

~T~  AMARTINE  returned  to  Monceaux  in  Septem- 
J-J  her.  He  was  conquered,  but  with  him  were  all 
the  founders  of  the  Republic.  He  left  his  work  in 
the  hands  of  an  honest  soldier,  in  whom  justice,  rather 
than  the  high  ideal  of  good  was  paramount.  He  left 
it  also,  to  an  Assembly,  in  which  were  germinating 
the  principles  of  the  Legislative.  What  did  it  matter 
so  long  as  the  Republic  survived,  even  nominally! 
Lamartine  was  resolved  to  defend  it,  to  bear  his  per- 
sonal griefs  in  silence,  and  to  uphold  those  who  had 
snatched  his  power  from  him.  Here  was  the  most 
sustained,  and  the  least  suspected  development  of 
this  heroic  character.  He  wanted  his  work  for  the 
Republic  to  remain,disfigured  as  it  might  be  by  the 
rubbish  piled  upon  it. 

We  surrounded  him.  The  neighboring  country 
remained  faithful.  His  great  glory  was  considered  a 
provincial  patrimony.  It  was  the  only  one  left  to 
him.  The  neighboring  cities  sent  deputation  after 
deputation.  The  peasants  thought  it  an  honor,  to 
come  and  salute  the  Father  of  a  Republic,  that  they 
were  just  beginning  to  comprehend.  For  a  fortnight, 


THE  PEASANTS'  HOMAGE.  155 

Monceaux   was  transformed  into  a  Forum.     Lone 

O 

processions,  with  beating  drums,  succeeded  each 
other  on  the  terrace,  and  Lamartine  harangued  them 
from  the  balcony.  He  seemed  to  renew  himself  in- 
cessantly, talking  always  in  a  language  intelligible  to 
his  auditors.  There  was  something  of  the  Evangelist 
in  him,  and  his  parables  were  the  lights  of  the  Repub- 
lican Church.  The  peasants,  transformed,  poured  in 
like  wine  from  the  press.  Eager  hearts  were  beating 
under  those  blouses.  The  most  rebellious  against 
liberty,  and  the  most  hardened  in  ignorance,  proud 
or  humble,  were  converted. 

One  day,  Lamartine  received  a  letter,  announcing 
a  visit  from  the  inhabitants  of  Saint  Gengoux-le- 
Royal. 

"  I  will  not  trouble  them  to  come  so  far,"  said  he, 
"  Invite  me  to  Cormatin,  and  then  they  will  have 
only  two  leagues  to  travel." 

The  day  was  fixed  for  October  seventeenth. 

The  chateau  of  Cormatin, — for  it  really  is  a  chat- 
eau, as  the  monarchists  of  the  last  elections  have  so 
frequently  printed  it,  hoping  to  make  me  suspected 
by  the  Republicans,  who  have  responded  to  them  by 
seventy-eight  thousand  votes, — though  much  too 
magnificent  for  the  resources  of  its  proprietor,  had 
been  one  of  the  favorite  resorts  of  Lamartine,  in  his 
youth.  He  had  loved  it  with  the  facility  which  char- 
acterized him  then,  and  often  describes  it — in  his 


i56 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


"  Memoirs."  Every  year,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  a 
visit.  A  special  room  was  consecrated  to  him,  and 
there  he  wrote  one  of  his  most  remarkable  chapters, 
the  last  banquet  of  the  Girondists.  The  enchantment 
of  the  visits  was  always  prolonged  into  other  seasons. 
This  particular  visit  was  to  bear  a  strictly  political 
character.  I  invited  my  neighbors  ;  it  was  to  be  the 
event  of  the  Canton. 

Unfortunately,  a  fair,  of  which  I  was  ignorant,  was 
to  be  inaugurated  at  Cormatin  on  the  same  day,  Oc- 
tober seventeenth.  That  morning,  a  few  strangers 
arrived  at  the  hotel.  Gold  was  seen  rolling  about  on 
the  table.  Everybody  thought  that  it  belonged  to 
some  transaction  of  the  fair. 

There  might  be  a  volume  written  upon  what  we 
did  at  Cormatin,  but  I  shall  not  have  the  imprudence 
to  do  it.  Still,  as  it  served  as  a  theatre  for  the  pro- 
logue of  the  Bonapartist  reaction,  I  must  give  an  out- 
line in  order  to  make  the  scene  understood.  Lam- 
artine  also  was  there,  so  this  is  my  excuse  for  writing 
as  follows. 

The  chateau  was  finished  in  1612,  by  the  Marquis 
d'Huxelles,  the  father  and  grandfather  of  the  two 
marshals  who  bore  that  name.  He  was  a  rich  lord,  and 
brought  workmen  and  artists  from  Italy  for  the  inte- 
rior decoration  of  the  north  wing.  The  gildings,  deli- 
cacy and  style  of  these  apartments  are  well  preserved. 
Those  who  know  the  style,  admire  it.  In  the  five 


THE  CffA  TEA  U  OF  COR  MA  TIN. 


157 


great  rooms  with  high  mantels,  and  in  the  grand 
hall,  it  is  easy  to  imagine  oneself  at  Fontainebleau. 
Henry  IV.  visited  there,  before  the  house  was  finished, 
Mme.  de  Sevigne"  and  Coulange,  as  well  as  a  great 
party  from  the  court  of  Louis  XIII.  were  also  guests. 
The  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries  brought 
their  rapiers,  their  plumed  hats,  their  swords,  their 
loves,  and  their  ruins.  According  to  ecclesiastical 
newspapers,  from  all  these  escutcheons,  from  all  these 
pagan  divinities,  which  are  found  on  the  ceilings,  there 
can  come  only  feudal  inspirations.  One  has  no  right 
to  feel  himself  one  of  the  people,  nor  to  dream  of  the 
Republic  if,  though  only  a  poor  combatant  with  the 
pen,  he  happens  to  inhabit  the  ancient  dwelling  of  a 
marshal  of  France.  Political  convictions  result  from 
the  roof  under  which  one  lives.  There  has  been  a 
duke  here  ;  therefore  it  is  impossible  that  there  should 
be  a  democrat.  One  is  condemned  to  idiocy  and  ster- 
ility, because  one  of  his  ancestors  did  not  know  how  to 
sign  his  name.  If  one  ascends  a  marble  staircase,  he 
must  necessarily  be  a  defender  of  the  king,  and  must 
be  conspiring  for  his  return.  Yet,  within  fifty  years, 
three  deputies  have  gone  out  from  Cormatin,  and  I 
have  the  honor  of  being  the  third. 

The  chateau  was  attacked  before  1789  by  an  in- 
cendiary band,  and  rescued,  after  a  skirmish.  In 
1812,  in  consequence  of  family  disasters,  and  sundry 
adventures,  it  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  "  Black-band  " 


jjS  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS, 

(bande  noire).  The  south  wing  on  the  long  court 
formerly  closed  by  a  draw-bridge,  was  demolished, 
but  the  valiant  chateau  killed  its  destroyer,  for  a 
beam  slipped,  crushing  him  to  death.  Two  facades 
remain  standing.  We  enter  by  the  gates  where  the 
taste  of  the  Renaissance  sculptured  Ionic  and  Corin- 
thian columns.  The  court  now  opening  upon  the 
garden,  is  very  large,  and  it  was  here,  vf  here  the  scene 
was  to  take  place. 

The  National  Guard  of  Saint  Gengoux-le-Royal, 
that  patriotic  and  picturesque  little  city,  arrived  at 
ten  o'clock,  bringing  in  its  train,  all  those  having  a 
spark  of  democracy  or  curiosity.  Dixmier,  of  whom 
I  shall  speak  again,  was  commandant.  The  guns  were 
stacked  in  the  hall  and  court. 

The  music  of  fife  and  drum  were  mingled  with 
the  ringing  shouts  of  the  village  fair. 

The  lowing  of  cattle  would  be  heard  above  the 
orchestra.  The  speech  of  the  charlatan  dentist  on 
his  cart,  would  respond  to  the  oration  of  Demosthenes. 

One  after  another,  the  carriages  came  down  the 
avenue.  Even  our  neighbors,  who  were  Legitimists 
at  heart,  prepared  to  give  a  hearty  welcome  to  the 
man,  who,  though  fallen  from  the  highest  position 
that  France  could  give  him,  had  also  banished  Louis 
Philippe.  At  noon,  Lamartine  drove  into  the  court. 
He  was  accompanied  by  Ronchaud  and  Eugene 
Pelletan.  Pelletan,  who  continued  the  direction  of 


LA  MAR  TINE  A  T  CO  2?  MA  TIN. 


159 


the  "  Bien  Public,"  was  already  celebrated,  by  those 
grand  studies  in  politics  and  style,  to  which  "  La 
Presse  "  owes  a  part  of  its  fortune.  I  had  with  me 
Bruys,  Ronot  fils,  M.  Dureault,  M.  Gormand,  Hip- 
polyte  Boussin,  M.  Menand,  etc.  The  weather  was 
cold  :  a  rain-storm  was  approaching. 

"  You  did  not  tell  me  of  this  fair,"  said  Lamartine 
to  me. 

"  I  did  not  remember  it ;  but  you  will  have  a 
much  larger  audience." 

"  I  do  not  like  such  an  audience  as  this,"  he 
replied.  He,  then,  entered  the  salon.  He  had  been 
recognized  in  passing  through  the  village.  The  gates 
were  open,  and  crowds  of  strangers  came  down  the 
avenues,  inundating  the  court.  The  National  Guards 
of  Saint-Gengoux,  -and  of  Cormatin,  which  I  com- 
manded, formed  a  half-circle  to  maintain  an  open 
space  between  the  orator  and  the  crowd.  I  was  in 
uniform,  and  circulated  freely  among  the  different 
groups,  thanking  those  who  had  come  to  take  part 
in  the  patriotic  festival,  and  happy  in  the  respect 
that  they  were  paying  my  old  house.  The  rain  had 
commenced  and  was  falling  fast.  The  people  still 
lingered.  Not  to  prolong  the  damp  condition,  Lam- 
artine resolved  to  hurry  matters.  He  advanced  to 
the  centre  of  the  old  fa£ade,  where  the  steps  of  red 
granite  descend  to  the  court,  and  stood  partially 
protected  by  the  Corinthian  portico.  The  orders 


l6o  LA  MAR  TINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

had  been  violated,  and  the  lines  forced.  The  great 
staircase  was  invaded,  and  already  twenty  heads 
were  at  the  windows,  and  men  were  hanging  on  the 
roof.  The  assault  was  tumultous,  but  how  was  it 
possible  to  refuse  entrance  to  people  who  wanted 
to  shelter  themselves  from  the  rain  ! 

Lamartine  was  greeted  with  applause  by  the 
National  Guards ;  the  peasants  saluted ;  the  men 
from  the  fair  said  nothing.  I  said  a  few  words  of 
welcome  to  Lamartine,  in  the  name  of  the  country. 
He  replied  in  his  usual  cordial  manner.  He  always 
could  say  something  new  on  the  same  question,  "  the 
Republic" 

In  one  of  his  most  forcible  phrases,  a  drunken 
voice  interrupted  with  the  growl.  "  Down  with  the 
forty-five  centimes  !  "  Another  voice,  probably  better 
paid,  took  up  the  refrain,  with,  "  Down  with  the  Re- 
public !  Down  with  Lamartine  ! "  Finally  there 
was  a  chorus  of  unknown  and  scattered  voices  crying, 
"  Long  live  the  Emperor  !  "  a  cry  only  appropriate 
to  the  battle  field  of  Waterloo. 

For  a  moment  Lamartine  looked  as  if  he  had 
stepped  on  a  serpent,  but  not  wishing  to  excite  a  dis- 
turbance he  feigned  not  to  have  heard  and  continued. 

I  was  exasperated  to  hear  such  a  cry  and  demon- 
stration, at  my  house.  If  I  could  have  judged  the 
miscreants  at  that  moment,  I  should  have  dealt  with- 
out mercy. 


"LONG  LIVE  NAPOLEON."  l6l 

The  indifferent  and  doubting,  asked  in  low  tones, 

"The  Emperor!     What  Emperor  ?" 

The  National  Guard  made  a  movement.  Dixmier 
had  difficulty  in  restraining  his  men,  who  charged 
upon  the  offenders  with  their  bayonets.  For  a 
moment  it  seemed  as  if  there  would  be  blood-shed. 

Lamartine  finished  by  a  magnificent  profession  of 
Republican  faith,  which  called  forth  a  salvo  of  ap- 
plause. But  the  desire  to  punish  the  offenders  of  our 
peace  was  paramount. 

The  Bonapartist  resumed,  "  Down  with  the  Re- 
public!  Long  live  Napoleon  !"  The  same  cry  came 
timidly  from  two  or  three  windows. 

It  was  evident,  that  this  was  a  premeditated 
stroke.  The  man  at  Ham  had  prepared  it.  His 
mercenaries  had  lanced  the  odious  name  of  Napoleon 
to  try  for  a  vibration.  Their  departure  was  a  little 
accelerated  by  threatening  feet,  and  they  disap- 
peared in  the  crowd. 

The  men  from  the  fair  had  been  well  paid,  and 
had  drank  freely  at  the  shops.  They  held  possession 
of  the  windows,  corridors  and  stairs.  At  the  least 
complication  the  house  might  be  sacked.  They  con- 
tinued their  cries  of  "  Long  live  Napoleon  !  "  with  a 
scorn,  according  to  rule,  as  if  to  disconcert  Lamartine,  - 
my  guests  and  myself,  by  their  infamous  discord- 
ance. 

I  felt  responsible  and  started  to  do   my  duty  as 


1 62  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

proprietor.  Pelletan  and  Boussin  were  equally  furi- 
ous, but  had  more  prudence  than  I,  and  restrained 
ine.  The  rain  ceased.  The  men  finding  themselves 
very  comfortable  at  the  chateau,  persisted  in  their 
coarse  laughs  and  songs,  in  which  politics  had  ceased 
to  take  part.  No  one  recognized  an  inhabitant  of 
the  canton  among  them.  They  were  itinerant  ped- 
dlers, evading  the  law,  begging  everywhere,  showing 
obscene  pictures  to  the  boys  and  girls  of  the  village, 
sowing  seeds  of  immorality  and  iniquity  in  these 
moving  bazars,  and  corrupting  the  public  in  every 
evil  way.  The  Bonapartist  gold  .had  slipped  into 
their  soiled  hands.  They  appropriated  it  deceitfully 
for  they  soon  substituted  a  song  in  praise  of  Mandrin, 
instead  of  proclaiming  the  name  of  Napoleon.  They 
paraded  at  the  attic  windows,  they  invaded  the  stair- 
cases, and  soon  pervaded  the  whole  house.  The 
patience  of  the  guardians  of  order  and  the  Republic, 
was  at  last  exhausted.  The  worthy  peasants  indig- 
nantly joined  us,  and  a  solid  phalanx  mounted  by 
another  passage  and  advanced  with  energetic  cries, 
of  "  Long  live  Lamartine  !  '' 

The  corridors  were  cleared  in  two  minutes,  and 
the  offensive  band  fled,  to  finish  its  refrains  elsewhere. 

The  honest  people  alone,  remained. 

An  attempt  at  Bonapartist  Jacquerie  had. been 
crushed.  Lamartine  shook  many  loyal  hands,  and  we 
drank  a  glass  of  wine  in  the  name  of  Liberty. 


LAMA R  TINES  FROPHEC Y.  \  63 

The  last  flourish  of  trumpets  saluted  all  that  re- 
mained of  the  Provisionary  government. 

Lamartine  was  very  sad,  in  spite  of  his  effort  to 
appear  cheerful.  I  was  more  so  than  he.  I  blamed 
myself.  I  ought  to  have  considered  that  a  fair  is  an 
incessant  excitement,  where  the  peasant  loses  the 
serenity  that  results  from  his  peaceful  labors.  I  felt 
that,  henceforth,  Cormatin  would  be  an  accursed  spot, 
and  asked  Lamartine's  pardon,  for  having  unwittingly 
drawn  him  into  a  snare. 

He  led  me  back  into  the  grove,  which  had  been 
the  scene  of  many  confidences.  We  were  alone  with 
Pelletan,  and  Boussin. 

"  The  evil  comes  from  afar,"  said  he  "  Cavaignac 
will  not  be  nominated  President." 

"  I  hope  not,"  interrupted  Pelletan,  looking  at 
Lamartine. 

"  I,  too,"  he  replied.  "The  Empire  begins  in  my 
own  department.  The  name  of  Bonaparte  has  only 
found  a  few  echoes  to-day.  In  fifteen  days  a  thunder 
will  reply,  and  the  story  of  blood  will  be  retold. 
Bonaparte  is  as  eternal  as  death.  I  said  so  when  the 
fool  was  recalled.  Man  can  only  make  outlines.  I 
have  made  a  rough  sketch,  and  designed  the  fresco 
of  the  Republic.  It  will  be  effaced  by  the  finger  of 
an  adventurer,  but  it  is  sure  to  reappear.  You  will 
all  be  Representatives  under  the  Third  Republic.  I 
shall  be  sleeping  then,  under  the  sod.  Put  some 


j64  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

compassion  into  your  Republic,  if  you  want  it  to 
endure.  Now,  let  us  go  and  amuse  ourselves,"  he 
added  in  a  tone  of  forced  gaiety. 

He  only  half  amused  himself.  He  was  very  seri- 
ous. This  symptom  saddened  him,  more  than  he 
would  acknowledge.  He  made  an  effort  not  to  com- 
municate his  depression  to  us,  and  was  full  of  cordi- 
ality for  all. 

The  table  was  full.  Lamartine  related  a  few  epi- 
sodes of  his  Government.  My  legitimist  neighbors, 
whom  I  had  invited  at  his  request,  to  make  a  fusion 
of  politics,  listened  with  astonishment.  They  could 
not  comprehend  a  nobleman,  who  had  decreed  uni- 
versal suffrage  and  democracy.  How  was  it  ?  He 
owned  vineyards  as  they  did.  He.  kept  his  horses, 
dressed  well,  had  a  distinguished  air,  and  yet  he  was  a 
Republican.  His  family  piqued  themselves  upon  their 
fine  manners,  and  when  the  opportunity  was  so  favora- 
ble, he  did  not  recall  Henry  V.  It  was  disgraceful ! 

Always  the  argument  of  the  "  chateau,"  to  which 
I  alluded  a  little  while  ago.  Fortunately  these 
gentlemen  did  not  dare  to  think  aloud.  They  saw 
before  them  a  man  who  was  moulding  history. 

Lamartine  did  all  that  he  could  to  destroy  the 
shameful  impression  of  the  morning.  I  remember 
his  charming  reply  to  Pelletan,  who  told  him  of  one 
of  his  acquaintances,  an  invalid,  living  near  by  with 
a  lady  who  had  bequeathed  him  two  million  francs. 


CHA  P  UIS  MONT  LA  VIL  LE.  \  65 

"  Two  million  !  "  replied  Lamartine.  "  That  is 
worth  a  thousand  crowns." 

This  gave  an  impulse  to  gaiety.  Bruys  counter- 
feited a  preacher  in  the  wildernesss,  taking  alternately 
the  English  and  German  accents.  This  was  a  sure 
sign  of  exuberance  of  spirits.  Pelletan  talked  like  a 
master,  to  the  great  astonishment  of  the  nobility, 
who  did  not  like  to  admit  that  a  mere  journalist  had 
so  much  taste  and  moderation. 

We  smoked  around  a  bright  fire,  with  conversation 
still  brighter.  Those  living  at  a  distance,  did  not 
ask  for  their  carriages  until  after  Lamartine  had  gone 
to  bed.  After  all  had  departed,  I  went  up  to  the 
village.  The  wound  of  the  morning  was  still  rankling. 
The  cafes  were  open,  on  account  of  that  cursed  fair. 
I  made  diligent  inquiries,  and  finally  got  proofs  of  a 
plot.  If  Caussidiere  had  been  there,  he  would  have 
found  something  to  do. 

The  individuals  in  great  coats,  who  had  displayed 
their  money  so  freely  in  the  morning,  were  unknown. 
The  workmen  in  blouses,  who  had  cried  4<  Vive  Na- 
poleon !  "  had  come  from  certain  villages,  under  the 
influence  of  Chapuis  Montlaville.  He,  Chapuis,  had 
served  all  the  ultra-monarchists  first  ;  then,  during  the 
last  years  of  Louis  Philippe,  the  extreme  left  had  had 
the  foolishness  or  weakness  to  admit  him.  The  Re- 
public honestly  offered  him  nothing,  and  so  he  turned 
to  Bonapartism.  He  had  just  organized  a  campaign 


1 66  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

in  his  Canton,  against  the  "  forty-five  centimes."  He 
was  preparing  for  the  tenth  of  December,  and  a  Pre- 
fecture. The  Prefecture  came  with  the  Reaction. 
Bonaparte  in  making  his  imperial  journey,  took  a 
bath  at  his  house.  Chapuis  Montlaville  sent  a  vial 
of  the  water  to  all  the  mayors  of  his  department,  as 
Chateaubriand  had  brought  home  a  vase  of  water 
from  the  Jordan  where  Christ  had  been  baptized — A 
month  later,  Chapuis  Montlaville  was  Senator. 

There  are  several  droll  stories  about  him. 

The  fifteenth  of  July  1830,  he  was  journeying  in 
Switzerland.  When  he  registered  his  name  at  the 
hotel,  he  wrote  : 

"  The  Baron  and  Baroness  de  Montlaville,  and 
Suite." 

The  fifteenth  of  August,  he  returned  to  the  same 
village. 

The  Revolution  was  then  reigning  in  France. 

He  wrote  on  the  same  leaf: 

"  Chapuis,  wife  and  servant. 

This  attempt  at  a  Bonapartist  riot  at  Cormatin, 
undoubtedly,  emanated  from  him. 

Having  solved  the  problem,  I  endeavored  to 
encourage  the  people,  and  succeeded.  The  next 
day,  when  Lamartine  passed  through  the  village,  his 
carriage  was  greeted  by  cries  of  "  Vive  Lamartine ! ' 

But  the  miasma  was  in  the  air. 


XII. 

Autumn  at  Saint-Point. 

ONE  morning  in  the  autumn  of  1848,  I  cannot 
now  recall  the  date,  I  was  at  Saint-Point.  The 
sun  was  drying  the  mists  of  the  valley  and  the  feathers 
of  the  peacocks  that  were  pluming  themselves  in  the 
court,  as  we  went  out  from  the  house,  and  ascended 
the  hill,  through  the  newly-planted  vines.  The  ladies 
fearing  the  heat,  did  not  accompany  us.  Lamartine 
foreseeing  an  attack  of  rheumatism,  hoped  to  prevent 
it  by  the  sun. 

The  carrier  had  arrived,  and  we  took  with  us  a 
pile  of  unopened  newspapers.  The  dogs  bounded 
gaily  at  our  side.  We  reached  that  part  of  the 
forest,  which  had  been  sold.  Only  a  few  grand  trees 
were  preserved,  as  a  peristyle,  for  a  future  grove. 
Lamartine  sat  down  on  the  ground,  with  his  feet  in 
the  sun,  and  his  head  shaded.  We  went  from  tree 
to  tree,  as  the  sun  advanced.  The  conversation,  or 
monologue  accompanied  us.  I  have  seldom  seen 
him  more  felicitous.  Chateaubriand's  "  Memoires 
d'outre-tombe  "  were  appearing  in  "  La  Presse."  I 
asked  his  impressions.  He  did  not  like  to  be  ques- 
tioned upon  Chateaubriand  in  public.  Those  who 


l68  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

did  not  know  his  unconsciousness  of  self,  too  apparent 
sometimes,  would  have  suspected  a  rivalry  between 
them. 

"  Entre  nous,"  said  he,  "  Chateaubriand  has  done 
more  evil  than  good  to  his  age.  The  superstitions 
and  mummeries  of  Catholicism,  stifled  by  the  great 
breath  of  the  Revolution,  and  fallen  into  their  own 
dust,  are  raised  again  by  some  sort  of  phantasmagory 
of  color,  in  his  "  Genie  du  Christianisme." 

"The  newly-placed  idols  will  retard  the  march  of 
reason,  by  the  genuflexions  they  will  demand,  and 
by  their  height,  will  hide  the  face  of  God.  Chateau 
briand's  style  is  only  a  magnificent  mechanism.  Not 
a  page  has  the  true  light  of  inspiration.  The  tints 
are  as  false  as  the  light  on  the  student  copy-book 
from  the  class-room  lamp.  I  have  re-read  Atala, 
and  laughed  over  it  as  much  as  I  wept  at  eighteen. 
I  feel  reproached  for  having  fascinated  women,  by 
unconsciously  imitating  this  inflated  style.  Chateau- 
briand has  never  been  natural.  Listen  !  " 

Lamartine  took  "  La  Presse  "  and  read  aloud 
one  of  those  remarkable  chapters  on  the  campaign 
in  Russia,  where  hatred  to  Bonaparte  is  justice  and 
eloquence.  The  reader  was  carried  out  of  himself, 
and  read  as  if  improvising  ; 

"  Very  well.  Yes  !  "  said  he,  when  the  article  was 
finished.  "  It  is  as  beautiful  as  Saint-Simon  or  Ma- 
chiavelle.  Here  is  a  pillory  erected  in  the  snow,  and 


AT  SAINT-POINT.  169 

the  Emperor,  pale  and  wan  will  remain  fastened  there 
in  history.  These  "  Memoires  d'outre-tombe,"  are 
the  only  serious  work  of  Chateaubriand." 

"  There  are  a  dozen  volumes,"  said  I. 

He  re-read  the  article  quietly.  I  saw  his  chest 
heave.  The  artist  was  filled  with  mute  admiration. 

He  wished,  however,  to  justify  his  first  opinion, 
and  recited  from  memory,  an  homage  certainly,  a 
stilted  page  from  "  Le  Natchez." 

"  I  prefer  Mme.  de  Stae'l,"  he  added,  "  she  is  more 
of  a  man." 

From  the  Revolution  of  '89,  where  we  com- 
menced, the  conversation  turned  to  the  Revolution  of 
February,  which  was  so  recent.  I  asked  cautiously, 
if  he  had  not  compromised  the  Republic  in  refusing 
the  Provisionary  Dictatorship,  that  the  majority 
would  have  imposed  upon  him  in  March  and  May. 

"  Most  certainly,  I  should  have  caused  the  dem- 
ocracy to  rule,"  he  replied,"  but  I  should  have  been 
obliged  to  have  two  scaffolds.  One  on  the  right,  for 
M.  de  Montalembert,  and  another  on  the  left,  for 
Blanqui.  You  know  what  I  think  of  the  inviolability 
of  human  life,  and  of  the  durability  of  governments 
by  terror.  I  want  to  leave  a  proof,  that  the  Repub- 
lic is  only  another  name  for  clemency,  and  brotherly- 
love.  The  Republic,  I  should  then  have  tried,  would 
have  lasted  two  years.  That  which  is  to  come,  will 
endure  for  centuries." 


170  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

He  did  not  say,  ahvays.  This  contemplator,  and 
student  of  history,  did  not  believe  in  the  uninter- 
rupted movement  of  progress.  He  recognized  times 
of  reaction.  He  judged  from  exhumed  ruins  that 
the  civilization  of  India  and  Assyria  had  been  as  near 
perfection  as  ours  ;  that  Nineveh  and  Babylon  had 
enclosed  as  many  wonders  as  Paris;  that  the  Repub- 
lican soul  of  Cicero  had  had  no  less  light  than  Mira- 
beau's ;  that  truths  are  lost  and  found  again  in  the 
march  of  ages  ;  that  it  was  rash  to  affirm  that  Con- 
fucius was  not  equal  to  Montesquieu,  and  that  hu- 
manity had  not  been  bathed  in  as  much  light  in  the 
morning  of  our  globe,  as  in  the  evening. 

He  never  abandoned  this  grandiloquent  paradox. 

I  questioned  him,  for  the  twentieth  time,  about 
his  colleagues  of  the  Provisionary  Government,  and 
especially  about  Louis  Blanc. 

"  Louis  Blanc,"  said  he,  "  is  a  star  upon  which 
rests  only  one  cloud.  The  social  question  cannot  be 
solved  in  a  system.  It  is  the  mother  question  of  all 
improvement,  the  eternal  contemporary  of  sorrow,  and 
will  only  be  resolved  by  fragments.  I  am  a  socialist, 
too,  as  I  have  proved  in  my  first  stammerings  upon  a 
Rational  Policy  ;  but  I  do  not  comprehend  special- 
ists among  curers  of  wounds  that  will  never  heal. 
Louis  Blanc  has  shaken  opinion  and  disturbed  our 
attitude  by  throwing  over  our  little  group  the  drapery 
of  a  Thesis.  I  know  very  well,  that  only  a  broad  ex- 


LOUIS  BLANC. 


171 


pansive  charity  exists  in  him.  I  have  never  found  a 
grain  of  ashes  on  the  hearth  of  that  sympathetic  sou). 
The  eternal  flame  of  good  has  passed  from  the  heart 
of  Beccaria  into  his  own  ;  and  a  sanctuary  is  always 
needed  for  such  lights.  Louis  Blanc  is  an  admirable 
writer,  and  if  he  sometimes  hesitates  as  an  orator,  it 
is  because  the  working  of  his  conscience  makes  him 
see  many  phases  of  truth.  But  he  is  firm  and  up- 
right upon  all  important  questions.  None  of  my 
friends  have  aided  me  more  than  he  in  the  abolition 
of  capital  punishment.  Every  word  that  he  uttered 
was  baptized  in  courage,  and  conviction. 

He  has  had  as  much  as  I  to  do  with  sweeping  the 
shadow  of  the  guillotine  from  the  soil  of  the  Repub- 
lic. One  half  of  the  preambles  of  the  decree  belong 
to  him.  He  has  not  permitted  one  drop  of  the  blood 
of  1793  to  fall  upon  the  date  of  1848.  And  in  this 
way  he  is  mine,  and  I  hold  out  my  arms  to  this  apos- 
tle in  his  exile.  If  there  are  some  doubtful  notes  in 
his  mind,  they  always  resolve  into  the  right  chord 
when  they  touch  the  sounding  board  of  this  heart  of 
gold.  I  see  him  always  as  at  the  Hotel-de-Ville. 
When  I  proposed  the  decree  for  the  abolition  of  capi- 
tal punishment  for  the  first  time,  there  was  a  unani- 
mous consent,  but  Dupont  de  1'Eure  raised  some  ob- 
jection as  to  the  manner  of  proceeding.  The  decision 
was  adjourned.  Very  early  the  next  morning,  Louis 
Blanc  returned  trembling  with  indignation  and  wrath. 


\J2.  LAMARTIXE  AND  II1S  FRIEXDS. 

He  ran  round  the  table  with  his  newspaper  in  his 
hand.  The  royalists  had  given  the  day  when  we 
would  revive  the  guillotine.  We  fell  into  each  others 
arms,  and  voted  enthusiastically.  Louis  Blanc  will 
always  vote  in  this  way." 

Lamartine  talked  for  a  long  time.  I  repeat  his 
words  almost  exactly,  for  they  still  vibrate  in  my 
memory.  My  illustrious  and  dear  colleague  Louis 
Blanc,  will  pardon  me  for  recalling  a  criticism,  which 
gives  so  much  sincerity  to  praise,  and  he  will  rejoice 
to  know  that  he  has  so  firm  a  friend  on  the  other  side 
of  the  veil.  The  sun,  which  had  been  declining  during 
this  speech,  now  shone  directly  in  our  faces.  Lamar- 
tine rejoiced  in  it.  He  loved  to  have  heat  and  light 
in  great  floods.  He  believed  himself  meridional, 
because  he  had  had  his  most  beautiful  romance  in 
Italy,  and  he  always  saw  the  sun  near  the  trellis  of 
Ischia,  through  the  beautiful  black  hair  of  Graziella. 
Mme.  de  Lamartine,  who  foresaw  these  ecstacies  had 
given  me  an  umbrella  to  shield  his  head.  He  pushed 
it  away,  laughing. 

"  Go  on,  my  dear  fellow.  Strip  me.  The  place 
is  propitious.  We  are  all  alone  in  the  woods. 
Rob  me  of  my  recollections.  I  will  not  cry  for 
help." 

"  If  I  were  older,  I  would  ask  you  for  an  abso- 
lutely intimate  confidence,"  said  I. 

"Ask  it.     'Tis  so  warm,  I  shall  not  be  afraid  to 


A  QUESTION  AND  ANSWER,  if$ 

throw  off  one  of  my  garments.     I  will  show  myself 
to  you  as  naked  as  an  Abencerage." 

"  Or  as  a  god  of  Olympus." 

"  O,  that  is  bad.  'Tis  too  easy  to  say,  with  your 
admiration." 

"  My  respectful  friendship." 

"  Too  short  a  friendship.  Come,  let  us  have  this 
great  question." 

I  mused  a  moment,  finally,  I  said. 

"  How  is  it  that  from  the  summit  of  your  literary 
glory,  you  have  plunged  into  the  unknown  current 
of  politics  ?  You  did  not  know  your  strength.  You 
did  not  know  whether  your  voice,  only  accustomed 
to  sing  in  solitude,  would  resound  well  on  the  marble 
of  the  tribune.  If  you  had  not  been  Lamartine,  you 
might  have  diminished  yourself,  by  this  elbowing  in 
the  crowd.  You  have  been  more  than  successful,  but 
was  it  not  a  bold  step  !  " 

"  Let  us  go  and  take  a  walk  ?  "  said  he  rising,  and 
not  replying  directly. 

His  silence  seemed  like  a  lesson.  We  walked 
towards  the  woods.  He  looked  sadly  at  the  falling 
trees  that  he  had  been  forced  to  sell.  The  neighbor- 
ing peasants  had  been  enlisted  as  wood-choppers. 
As  we  passed  through  the  group,  they  recognized 
Lamartine,  but  the  worthy  men  knew  how  much  he 
suffered  in  seeing  his  mountain  stripped,  and  respect 
ing  his  grief,  did  not  accost  him. 


174 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


The  moment  that  we  turned  aside  into  the  path, 
one  of  the  youngest  of  them,  taking  his  pipe  from 
his  mouth  cried,  "  Vive  la  Republique  !  "  It  was 
re-echoed  from  every  mouth,  and  resounded  through 
the  clearing.  Lamartine  acknowledged  it,  and  dis- 
appeared. There  was  a  smile  on  his  face. 

"  Now  you  see  why  I  have  gone  into  politics," 
said  he.  "  Happily  chance  has  given  an  answer  to  a 
difficult  question.  I  felt  myself  more  than  you  can 
think,  I  needed  to  be  in  action,  as  much  as  a  horse 
needs  to  leave  his  pasture  for  the  road.  I  said  to 
myself.  '  Meditations,  on  the  borders  of  a  lake,  do 
riot  make  a  whole  man.'  I  was  irritated  with  my 
claim  upon  literary  glory,  which  kept  me  from  being 
taken  as  a  serious  combatant,  and  from  that  came  my 
puerile  imprecations  against  my  verses.  I  wanted 
to  go  into  the  river,  where  I  felt  sure  that  I  could 
swim.  I  wanted  to  carry  to  my  Master  at  the  end 
of  my  days,  an  accomplished  action.  And  I  had 
another  ambition.  I  wanted  by  my  example  to  lead 
the  most  humble  before  the  face  of  truth.  Words 
thrown  on  the  wind,  sow  ideas.  Ideas  are  germs  of 
facts.  These  peasants  seeing  me  to-day,  utter  the 
cry  of  Liberator.  I  have  succeeded.  The  harvest  is 
ripening,  and  I  am  paid  a  hundred  fold  for  my  sweats 
at  the  Hotel-de-Ville." 

I  took  his  hands  in  mine,  and  we  descended  the 
hill.  This  great  man's  teachings  were  as  simple  and 


THE  ACTS  OF  LAMAR TINE.  \ >j 5 

unpremeditated  as  the  parables  in  the  Gospel.  I 
have  thought  much  of  this.  There  ought  to  be  a 
Bible  written  on  the  Acts  of  Lamartine.  But  he 
alone  could  do  it,  and  Death  has  arrested  his  hand. 

The  ladies  were  waiting  for  us  in  the  court,  at 
the  dining-room  door.  It  was  late. 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  all  this  time,  Al- 
phcnse?"said  Mme.  de  Lamartine. 

"  We  have  been  talking  nonsense,"  he  replied. 
"  There  is  nothing  in  the  world  so  good  as  that." 


XIII. 

Reminiscences. 

I  LOOK  around  among  all  the  loved,  and  remarka- 
ble faces  that  I  have  seen  at  Lamartine's,  or  that 
recall  a  single  incident  of  his  life,  for  the  man  is  only 
complete  by  his  surroundings,  as  Socrates  still  exists 
through  his  disciples.  I  find  all  these  faces  at  the 
National  Assembly.  We  are  the  protective  phalanx 
of  Order  and  Liberty,  who  have  sworn  to  defend  our 
principles,  at  all  hazards,  only  through  the  Republic. 
Almost  all  who  came  near  Lamartine,  received  from 
him  the  breath  of  regeneration.  We  have  brought 
away  a  fragment  of  the  sword  broken  in  his  hand. 

Lamartine's  friends  bear  him  witness.  Ducuing 
was  one  of  the  regular  visitors.  His  manly  face, 
recalling  an  antique  medallion  by  its  varied  expres- 
sions, announced  his  opinions  beforehand.  Some 
people  show  themselves,  pre-eminently,  as  knights  ; 
others,  as  citizens.  Ducuing  was  both,  Citizen  of  a 
mild  Sparta,  and  knight  of  the  people.  He  was  known 
to  Lamartine  through  his  solid  studies  of  political 
economy.  When  Mires  came  to  Lamartine  to  pro- 
pose founding  the  "  Pays,"  a  newspaper  that  has 
completely  changed  its  character  since  the  Cassagnacs 


DU  CUING. 


177 


have  been  its  directors,  Lamartine  made  an  absolute 
condition  that  Ducuing  should  be  associated  with  him. 

"  I  have  a  pen  of  gold,  perhaps,"  said  he  to  Mires, 
who  was  to  furnish  the  funds,  "  but  Ducuing  has  a 
pen  of  iron,  and  I  want  it  on  the  paper." 

Ducuing,  in  spite  of  his  youth,  and  his  admiration 
for  Lamartine,  never  laid  aside  his  frankness. 

One  day,  he  came  into  the  master's  study  without 
being  announced,  where  he  found  Mme.  de  Lamartine 
in  tears.  Usually  she  reserved  her  griefs  for  her 
private  apartment,  and  she  never  wept  on  her  hus- 
band's account.  She  rose  and  left  the  room  without 
saying  anything,  as  Ducuing  entered. 

"  Never  get  married,  Ducuing,  and  do  not  let  a 
woman  see  too  closely  into  your  life,"said  Lamartine, 
"  the  best  of  them  will  lead  you  into  difficulty.  I 
defy  you  to  find  a  better  woman  than  Mme.  de  Lam- 
artine, and  yet  you  have  witnessed  a  crisis  in  our 
conjugal  felicity.  It  is  odious  !  " 

Ducuing  came  forward,  with  his  honest  manly 
face,  "  I  do  not  know  what  the  question  was,"  said 
he,  "  but  Mme.  de  Lamartine  has  cried,  and  I  am 
sure  that  you  are  wrong.'' 

"  Come  and  dine  with  us  this  evening,"  resumed 
Lamartine  taking  up  his  pen,  and  changing  the  con- 
versation.    At  seven  o'clock,  harmony  was  restored 
in  the  household.     At  each  turn  in  the  conversation 
Lamartine  would  say : 


178 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


"  It  is  useless  to  appeal  to  Ducuing,  Marianne. 
He  always  agrees  with  the  ladies.  They  have  spoHed 
him.''  This  kind  of  good-humored  revenge  lasted  a 
month.  During  that  time,  Ducuing  increased  the 
circulation  of  the  paper  to  a  degree,  that  was  not 
compensated  later,  even  by  the  gold  of  the  imperial 
purse. 

I  also  find  on  the  same  seat  with  me  in  the  As- 
sembly, and  with  a  ballot  of  the  same  color  in  his 
hand,  Edmond  Adam,  upon  whom  Lamartine  de- 
pended during  the  revolutionary  days  of  the  Hotel- 
de-Ville.  He  was  one  of  the  firmest  in  upholding 
the  flag  of  the  republican  order.  Once,  when  he  had 
subdued  a  tempest  by  his'  wise  and  eloquent  words, 
Lamartine  embraced  him,  and  called  him  his  son. 
This  accolade  was  a  more  noble  decoration  than  the 
Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  which  he  refused  from 
the  insolent  Empire. 

Many  years  after  the  scenes  in  the  drama  of  the 
Hotel-de-Ville  had  become  historical,  Lamartine  had 
some  business  transactions  with  Adam,  who  was  then, 
secretary-General  of  a  banking-house.  The  great 
man  showed  himself  a  great  child.  He  had  some 
money  deposited  in  the  bank,  and  went  to  Adam  to 
have  it  sent  to  Macon  in  gold. 

"  I  am  going  away  in  a  few  days,  I  owe  the 
money  to  my  vinedressers.  Make  haste,  and  send 
it  in  gold."  "  Nothing  will  be  easier  than  to  give 


THE  POET  AND  THE  BANKER, 


179 


you  credit  there,"  said  Adam.  "  Gold  is  not  a  rare 
article.  The  transportation  and  insurance  will  cost  a 
great  deal.  I  will  send  it  in  paper." 

"  I  want  the  gold  to  come  from  Paris.  The  vine- 
dressers do  not  dare  to  spend  it,  and  it  will  be  a 
fortune  to  them." 

"  But  allow  me  to  repeat,  that  the  expense  will 
be  considerable." 

"  Bah  !  said  Lamartine,  '  I  sold  a  romance,  last 
Monday  to  the  '  Constitutionel.'  I  was  four  days 
in  writing  it.  Next  Saturday,  they  will  pay  me  ten 
thousand  francs." 

Though  perfectly  exact,  it  was  an  absurd  state- 
ment to  make  before  a  crowd  of  clerks,  who  had  as- 
sembled to  watch  his  departure. 

His  generosity  was  often  mistaken  for  pride,  and 
his  prodigality  for  avarice. 

"  L'or  pur  que  sous  mes  pas  semait  sa  main  prospere, 
N'a  point  paye  la  vigne  ou  le  champ  du  potier." 

he  says  somewhere.  Alas !  the  gold  gained  by  his 
genius  has  too  often  paid  for  the  vine. 

Emmanuel  Arago  had  been  sent  to  Lyons  as 
Prefect,  the  second  day  of  the  Republic.  There  was 
a  Lyonnais  tempest  as  well  a  Parisian.  Arago  en- 
tered the  city  unknown,  with  the  same  qualities  that 
we  find  he  still  possesses — a  rare  fertility  of  argumentj 
a  thrilling  and  inexhaustible  voice  to  send  these  argu- 
ments into  the  crowd,  and  moreover  an  hereditary 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


conviction  and  natural  inclination  to  Order.  Under 
the  fantastic  though  not  reassuring  name  of  "  Vo- 
races,"  he  was  obliged  to  allow  a  battalion  to  organ- 
ize, whose  rays,  and  clamors  rendered  many  unfore- 
seen services  to  the  public  peace. 

He  could  write  an  amusing  and  telling  book  upon 
his  government  at  Lyons,  but  he  tells  it  so  often, 
and  with  so  much  imagination  that  probably  he  never 
will  write  it. 

One  morning  a  multitude  besieged  the  Prefecture. 
A  company  of  weavers  were  seen  coming  down  from 
"  la  Croix  Rousse."  The  red  flag  crossed  the  bridge, 
and  it  seemed  as  if  the  city  would  be  given  up  to  the 
violence  of  demagogues. 

Emmanuel  was  haranguing  fiercely  on  the  square. 

A  man  came  to  him,  saying  in  a  low  tone. 

"Citizen  Arago.  I  have  just  come  from  Paris. 
Here  is  a  letter  from  Lamartine." 

The  Prefect  did  not  cease  speaking,  while  he  read 
the  letter.  It  was  written  with  a  pencil,  and  simply 
signed,  "  L."  The  writing  was  firm  and  clear,  and 
there  was  only  one  line.  Here  it  is  in  its  dark  laconi- 
cism  ; 

"  Friend,  hold  out  as  long  as  you  can  at  Lyons. 
We  are  overpowered  here.  To-night,  the  hand  that 
writes  to  you,  will  be  cold." 

Arago  had  no  doubt  of  the  authenticity  of  the 
style  or  writing.  Such  a  declaration  from  the  ac- 


EMMANUEL  ARAGO.  jgi 

credited  chief  of  the  government,  announcing  his 
approaching  death,  was  not  very  encouraging  to  the 
speaker,  but  he  continued,  drawing  his  energy  as  it 
were,  from  the  source  of  discouragement  and  defeat. 

A  few  months  after,  Arago  was  nominated  Minis- 
ter-Plenipotentiary, at  Berlin.  Before  his  departure, 
he  went  to  the  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs  for  instruc- 
tions. Lamartine  was  confined  to  his  bed  with  an 
attack  of  rheumatism.  He  thought  that  he  knew  all 
the  courts  of  Europe,  but  his  state  officers  sometimes 
deceived  him. 

"  At  Potsdam,  you  will  meet  the  charming  and 
leading  head  of  Berlinois  politics.  It  is  the  Princess 
Royal.  A  little  active  body,  brown  and  nervous, 
sympathizing  with  liberal  ideas,  and  conducting  all 
the  diplomatic  corps  by  her  charms — in  fact,  she  is 
one  of  those  mythical  princess  we  read  of  in  the  tales 
of  Hoffman  or  Goethe.  Fall  in  love  with  her.  It 
will  be  an  advantage  to  France." 

Emmanuel  actually  thought  that  he  had  a  pro- 
spective romance.  There  was  nothing  to  do  in  Prussia, 
but  to  be  presented  to  Queen  Mab, — who  was  Au- 
gusta. The  same  Augusta  of  those  letters  from  Ver- 
sailles, through  which  her  husband  sent  the  daily  tem- 
perature of  France. 

She  was  tall,  cold  and  imposing,  as  straight  and 
stiff  as  a  weather-beaten  column  of  a  Lutheran 
Church,  blonde  as  the  froth  of  the  national  beer,  and 


1 8 2  LAMAR TINE  A ND  HIS  FRIEND S. 

utterly  irresponsive  to  any  words  of  love.  Except 
for  these  few  shades  of  difference,  the  portrait  drawn 
by  Lamartine  fitted  the  frame  exactly. 

Lamartine  laughed  heartily  at  the  joke,  when  Em- 
manuel related  it.  Such  a  princess,  as  he  saw,  might 
have  contracted  an  alliance  between  France  and 
Russia. 

Instead  of  listening  to  Arago,  Augusta  dreamed 
of  the  model  of  the  Krupp  gun  that  her  husband 
had  shown  her.  In  the  breweries  of  Bonn,  she  had 
already  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  young  student  Bis- 
marck. 

These  pages  are  not  all  of  politics. 

There  was  Adolphe  de  La  Tour,  of  whom  I  have 
spoken  in  connection  with  the  history  of  the  "  Bien 
Public,"  a  friend  of  Emmanuel  Arago  and  mine  also. 
Lamartine,  who  might  have  helped  him  more  in  poli- 
tics, appreciated  keenly  his  rare  qualities,  and  devo- 
tion to  true  ideas,  which  so  plainly  marked  him  for  a 
political  life.  In  the  Republican  clubs  of  1848  no 
one  was  better  listened  to,  than  he,  and  he  would  have 
been  one  of  the  surest  counsels  of  the  National  As- 
sembly, though  at  the  time  to  which  I  allude,  we  had 
only  the  sJiadow  of  the  Republic  in  our  hopes. 

Adolphe  de  La  Tour  invited  M.  de  Lamartine 
twice  a  year,  to  dine  with  him.  His  apartment  was 
a  perfect  museum.  The  dinner  though  charming, 
was  only  a  pretext.  The  evenings  were  almost 


AT  THE   THEATRE.  ^3 

always  spent  at  the  "  Vari£t£s,"  or  at  the  "Palais 
Royal."  The  noble  head  of  the  poet  and  future  regu- 
lator of  the  Republic,  was  enframed  in  one  of  the 
proscenium  boxes  of  the  Opera  Bouffe. 

Lamartine  laughed  heartily  at  the  witticisms  of 
Oudry  and  Arnal.  In  listening  to  Potier,  he  threw 
aside  his  great  cares  for  the  time,  and  was  as  merry 
as  in  the  youthful  days  of  Graziella. 

Leon  Bruys  d'Ouilly,  Champvans  and  I  were  the 
only  guests  and  for  the  moment  mirth  made  us  the 
equals  of  this  great  man. 

He  had  that  exquisite  familiarity  belonging  to  the 
eighteenth  century,  and  the  beginning  of  the  Res- 
toration, of  which  we  only  saw  the  remains.  The 
pun,  that  contortion  of  the  tongue,  always  reduced 
him  to  silence.  He  could  not  bear  jugglery  except 
in  action,  and  could  not  comprehend  a  jest  that  was 
not  taken  directly  from  nature.  Often  he  withdrew 
into  the  recesses  of  the  box  where  his  conversation 
attracted  us.  A  chance  word  would  lead  him  to 
philosophy,  or  politics.  I  have  heard  him  discuss 
the  fortifications  of  Paris,  in  as  masterly  fashion  as  if 
at  the  tribune,  while  Mile,  de  Esther  Bongars  was 
permitting  herself  to  be  embraced  on  the  stage.  I 
remember  one  of  his  charming  sayings  between  the 
acts  at  the  Palais  Royal.  He  was  engaged  in  pub- 
lishing a  new  edition  of  his  works,  and  told  us  that 
he  had  spent  three  thousand  francs  that  morning,  in 


1 84  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

advertisements.  We  exclaimed  against  the  extrava- 
gance. "  What  would  you  have  me  do  ?  "  he  replied. 
"  God  himself  needs  some  one  to  ring  the  bells 
for  him." 

If  our  memories  had  been  stenographs,  what  a 
dazzling  collection  of  his  pleasant  sayings,  we  might 
have  had. 

Lamartine's  jests  were  not  of  the  same  coinage  as 
Voltaire's  and  Rivarol's.     They  bore  their  own  stamp 
and  had  a  higher  value.     There  was  so  much  in  him 
that  he  seldom  quoted  others. 

The  ingenious  hospitality  of  de  La  Tour  made 
many  amusing  evenings  for  Lamartine,  and  he  repaid 
us  with  a  good  humor,  which  was  as  eloquent  as  his 
genius.  His  greatest  effort  of  courtesy  was  to  pro- 
long the  entertainment ;  however,  he  never  went 
beyond  ten  o'clock.  We  left  with  him,  and  often  it 
was  necessary  to  break  through  the  crowd,  for  the 
report  that  Lamartine  was  in  the  hall  was  always 
enough  to  attract  the  multitude  who  watched  for  his 
departure.  This  curiosity  was  not  agreeable  to  him, 
and  often  deterred  him  from  going  to  places  that  he 
was  not  in  the  habit  of  visiting. 

He  was  then  living  at  rue  de  rUniversite",  and 
when  the  weather  was  pleasant,  he  walked  home. 
He  would  accept  a  cigar  for  companionship,  but 
seldom  smoked,  as  it  was  not  his  time. 

Crossing  the  bridge  would  suggest  a  song  that  he 


THE  GROUP  OF  HOTEL  DE   VILLE.  185 

had  heard  on  the  quay  at  Margellina,  or  at  the  fete  of 
"  Pie  de  Grotta."  It  was  more  the  suspicion  of  a 
song,  than  an  actual  humming,  but  we  were  always 
glad  to  see  content  place  her  light  crown  upon  his 
head,  if  only  for  a  moment.  Heavy  cares  were  to  be 
engraven  there,  too  soon. 

One  of  the  men  who  did  most  to  lighten  his  cares 
and  whom  it  would  be  unjust  to  forget  in  this  re- 
spected list  of  friends,  was  Garnier-Pages.  He  often 
came  with  his  son-in-law  M.  Dr6o,  my  friend  and 
associate.  Lamartine  and  he  would  go  over  their 
recollections  of  the  Government  of  February,  and 
imagine  themselves  in  the  same  stirring  scenes  of 
patriotism  and  courage. 

"  If  the  Republic  could  always  be  personified  in 
such  men  as  Garnier-Pages."  Lamartine  has  often 
said  to  me,  "  it  would  be  still  more  contemptible  not 
to  adore  it." 

Notwithstanding  my  sympathy  for  Garnier-Pages, 
I  used  to  think  that  Lamartine  ought  to  have  been 
more  general. 

The  group  seen  on  the  steps  of  the  Hotel-de-Ville, 
in  which  we  saluted  Dupont  de  1'Eure,  Louis  Blanc, 
Marrast,  Arago,  Ledru-Rollin,  and  Flocon,  has  en- 
tered history,  with  an  unparalleled  escort  of  virtue, 
eloquence,  intellect,  science,  and  disinterestedness 
and  its  provisionary  government  will  be  eternal. 


XIV. 

Pecuniary   Troubles. 

ONE  morning  in  September  1848,  I  went  to 
Saint-Point.  Lamartine  said  to  me, 

"  I  have  a  new  secretary.  You  will  like  him.  I 
will  introduce  you." 

He  took  me  up  stairs,  where  a  young  man,  with 
regular  features  and  cold  haughty  eyes,  sat  before  a 
table  that  was  covered  with  proofs.  Lamartine  in- 
troduced us. 

This  was  Paul  Saint- Victor. 

In  his  first  conversation,  I  recognized  a  future 
master  of  style.  He  was  a  finished  critic  in  literature, 
and  art.  His  sentences,  even  when  figurative,  were 
clear  and  concise,  and  young  as  he  was,  a  satirical 
eloquence  showed  his  predisposition.  His  speech 
had  in  it  the  same  ring  and  resonance  that  are  found 
in  his  writings  to  day. 

I  have  passed  many  a  pleasant  evening  with  him 
at  Saint-Point  and  at  Monceaux,  at  the  fireside,  when 
all  the  household  had  gone  to  bed. 

He  told  me  of  a  book  that  he  was  preparing,  on 
Beau  Brummel,  whom  he  slightly  resembled.  He 
made  the  impossibility  of  warmth  and  faith  in  seep- 


PAUL  SAINT  VICTOR.  187 

ticism,  a  reality.     He  never  was  mistaken  in  his  vo- 
cation.    He  often  would  say, 

"  My  ambition  is  to  write  a  play." 

This,  he  has  been  doing  for  the  last  twenty  years, 
only,  each  play  is  a  book,  and  each  book  is  a  master- 
piece. I  have  an  irrefutable  proof  that  he  is  not  so 
impassive  as  the  envious  say.  Lamartine  had  just 
written  that  incomparable  lament  called,  "  Pere  Du- 
temps."  He  read  it  to  me  in  Saint-Victor's  presence. 
In  the  evening  when  we  were  alone.  Saint-Victor 
said  to  me. 

"  Let  us  read  '  Pere  Dutemps  '  again." 
He  turned  to  that  page,  which  contains  the 
greatest  compassion  that  can  enter  the  heart  of  man, 
and  is  the  sublimity  of  sadness.  He  could  not  con- 
tinue the  reading.  Tears  choked  his  voice.  And  yet, 
he  had  made  six  copies  for  the  papers.  I  have  not 
forgotten  those  tears,  if  Saint- Victor  has.  I  hold  them 
in  tender  memory,  for  they  honor  him. 

Saint- Victor  seemed  to  have  an  affection  for  me. 

In  Paris,  when  we  left  Lamartine's  at  noon,  we 
often  met  Pelletan.  How  many  long  walks  we  had 
in  the  gardens  of  the  Luxembourg,  and  in  the  Champs 
Elysees,  where  one  was  the  peripatetic  philosopher, 
and  the  other,  the  marvellous  sophist.  Suddenly, 
and  without  a  cloud  coming  between  us,  our  acquain- 
tance ceased.  I  was  ready  then  to  love  him,  and  I 
have  never  ceased  to  admire  him. 


\ 


!88  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

That  day  at  Saint-Point,  he  was  doing  a  humilia- 
ting work.  Lamartine  had  just  written  almost  breath- 
lessly. "  L'Histoire  de  la  Revolution  de  1848."  It 
was  too  soon.  The  events  were  not  sufficiently  cold. 
One  would  have  said,  that  he  felt  the  need  of  justi- 
fying his  heroism,  but  there  was  another  motive  in 
this  precipitation  of  which  I  speak.  A  curious  idea 
had  taken  possession  of  him  a  reform  in  punctuation. 
He  found  that  periods  often  interrupted  the  flow  of 
a  phrase  and  thought  that  when  the  idea  was  not 
completely  finished,  the  new  sentence  should  begin 
with  a  small  letter. 

Saint-Victor  was  charged  with  this  subtle  modi- 
fication which,  after  all,  Lamartine  subsequently  re- 
nounced. At  that  time  as  I  say,  Saint -Victor  was 
erasing  capitals  from  the  proofs  and  the  work  irritated 
him. 

"  This  will  drive  me  crazy,"  said  he,  "  I  have 
already  fifty  pages  to  revise,  and  ten  thousand  semi- 
colons to  put  in." 

I  offered  to  aid  him.  It  was  a  great  labor.  The 
interest  of  the  book  constantly  distracted  us,  and  after 
reading  a  page,  we  were  obliged  to  go  back  and  cor- 
rect. We  talked  too.  I  asked  him,  if  he  had  an  idea 
of  going  into  the  diplomatic  corps,  under  Lamartine's 
influence,  as  was  the  report. 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  I  am  happy  enough  in  serving, 
disinterestedly,  a  great  man  who  has  fallen.  Besides 


FOREBODINGS 


189 


the  dictator  of  a  few  months  ago,  could  not  give  the 
position  of  tobacconist  to-day.  Genius  has  no  credit 
with  the  mediocrity  in  power.  And,  moreover  Lam- 
artine  is  a  ruined  man." 

He  looked  thoroughly  convinced  of  this.  I  had 
heard  warnings  of  this  catastrophe  so  many  times, 
that  I  was  indignant. 

"  You  are  not  yet  accustomed  to  the  tone  of  this 
house,"  said  I.  "  M.  de  Lamartine  proclaims  his 
ruin  every  morning,  at  the  breakfast-table,  before  his 
servants,  whom  he  pays  regularly,  and  five  minutes 
afterwards,  he  will  give  five  hundred  francs  to  any 
one  who  will  ask  for  it." 

"  If  I  seem  to  speak  indiscreetly  to  you,  whom  I 
do  not  know,  it  is  because  you  are  devoted  to  him 
even  to  death,  and  because  I  have  seen  this  misfor- 
tune in  all  its  enormity.  You  are  in  a  better  position 
than  I  to  risk  advice.  Some  one  must  prevail  upon 
M.  de  Lamartine,  not  to  buy  any  more  wine,  and  to 
spend  only  his  income.  This  book  has  brought  ten 
thousand  francs,"  added  he,  showing  me  the  proofs, 
"  and  would  be  worth  quite  as  much,  without  the  re- 
formed punctuation/' 

The  conversation  continued  full  of  solicitude. 

I  insert  here  a  parenthesis  to  tell  what  I  know  of 
the  many  ways,  which  led  so  fatally  to  misfortune. 

Lamartine  had  five  sisters,  and  the  paternal  patri- 
mony was  very  restricted.  He  was  rich,  not  on  ac- 


190 


.LAMART1NE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


count  of  his  talent  but  by  right  of  primo  geniture, 
through  the  legacies  of  his  aunts  and  uncles  be- 
queathed to  him  during  a  period  of  twenty  years.  It 
mattered  not  to  these  clingers  to  the  ancient  regime, 
that  the  heir  was  celebrated.  All  they  thought  of, 
was  the  perpetuity  of  the  name.  Is  it  continuing  a 
name,  when  one  adds  to  it  in  such  enormous  propor- 
tions? This  once  humble  family  of  gentle  folks,  was 
now  known  all  over  Europe.  This  was  only  a  second- 
ary consideration  to  Lamartine's  ancestors. 

These  donors  were  no  benefactors.  Each  trans- 
mitted domain  was  taxed  with  a  fabulous  number  of 
legacies  to  all  the  sisters,  and  nieces.  Lamartine  in- 
creased them.  The  land  was  sold,  and  the  receipts 
were  seldom  sufficient  to  pay  the  charges.  Lamar- 
tine borrowed;  thus,  the  more  his  ancestors  enriched 
him,  the  more  they  ruined  him.  The  heart  was  the 
constant  destroyer  of  the  fortune. 

These  little  provincial  nobles  were  a  singular  caste, 
throughout  the  kingdom.  They  knew  enough  of 
light  poetry  to  quote  to  a  pretty  partner,  over  the 
game  of  Boston. 

Whatever  might  have  been  their  religious  theory, 
their  practice  was  exceedingly  narrow.  They  were 
positively  ignorant  of  the  Gospel,  and  laughed  im- 
moderately over  the  Catechism. 

They  sent  their  nephews  to  the  Jesuitical  school, 
and  their  nieces  to  the  little  convent.  They  held 


A  MUSE   WITHOUT  TALENT.  ICjl 

their  family  name  in  profound  respect,  but  it  all  con- 
centrated in  the  eldest  son.  The  younger  sons  were 
sent  out  into  the  world  to  care  for  themselves,  and 
they  never  murmured.  So,  good  and  amiable  as  these 
ancestors  may  have  been,  they  were  no  less  destroy- 
ers. The  first  disaster  was  the  inheritances,  which 
completely  failed  in  their  end,  and  the  second  was 
the  great  prodigality,  and  insatiable  generosity  of  the 
heir.  He  felt  that  he  had  royal  blood  in  his  veins, 
at  a  time  when  kings  were  not  speculators.  I  never 
saw  him  give  anything  but  gold  to  the  poor  on  the 
street. 

I  remember  one  characteristic,  which,  though  a 
fault,  was  frequently  repeated. 

One  day  I  was  in  his  cabinet,  in  rue  de  1'Univer- 
sit£.  He  was  reading  some  important  political  article 
and  was  hurrying  to  go  to  the  Assembly.  His  ser- 
vant brought  in  a  card. 

"  Here  is  that — again !"  he  exclaimed.  One  of 
his  inherited  habits  was  to  swear  in  private. 

"  Shall  I  tell  her  that  you  are  not  here,"  said  I. 
"  Who  is  the  woman  ?  " 

"  A  Muse  without  talent.  She  annoys  me  with  her 
Alexandrines.  She  spends  at  the  theatre  all  the 
money  that  she  can  extort  from  fools." 

"  Send  her  away,"  said  I. 

"  That  is  what  I  am  going  to  do." 

He  opened  a  little  closet  in  the  chimney.     I  saw 


192 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS, 


a  basket  full  of  gold  and  bank  notes.  He  took  one 
of  them  of  one  thousand  francs,  and  gave  it  to  his 
servant,  saying, 

"  Tell  her  never  to  come  again,  and  give  this 
money  cautiously." 

This  was  his  mode  of  sending  away  importunate 
people. 

The  three  months  of  government  cost  him  one 
hundred  and  sixty  thousand  francs.  Thus,  he  sur- 
reptitiously disarmed  the  rioters  who  were  exciting 
Paris,  and  sending  the  Republic  to  perdition.  I  un- 
derstand now  why  he  called  himself  a  lightning-rod. 

His  last  borrowed  capital  was  devoted  to  public 
service.  And  naturally  for  years,  the  reactionary 
newspapers  announced  that  Lamartine  had  stolen 
two  millions  during  the  time  that  he  had  control  of 
affairs.  His  only  foolish  expenditure  was  his  voyage 
in  the  Orient,  and  yet  he  sold  the  book  that  he 
brought  back,  for  one  hundred  thousand  francs.  His 
household  expenses  was  never  more  than  forty  thou- 
sand francs  a  year.  He  owned  many  horses  when  he 
lived  in  the  country,  but  none  of  them  were  valuable. 
His  hospitality  was  great  and  incessant;  his  table  fur- 
nished abundantly  but  simply. 

His  vinedressers  brought  quantities  of  fowls  and 
waffles.  "  I  live  upon  their  presents,"  he  used  to  say 
but  he  never  added,  that  he  regularly  paid  two  and 
three  times  their  value.  His  personal  wants  were 


A  MISTAKE  OF  GENIUS. 


193 


very  moderate.  His  charities  alone  dug  the  pit  that 
engulfed  him,  and  during  his  most  disastrous  years,  he 
would  submit  to  no  reduction  here. 

As  a  young  man,  Lamartine's  resources  were  very 
small,  and  from  the  time  that  he  had  cared  for  him- 
self, he  had  lived  side  by  side  with  debt.  He  formed 
a  system  from  his  experience.  When  his  affairs 
seemed  to  be  in  a  little  better  condition  he  said  to  me. 

"  I  shall  now  arrange  so  as  always  to  have  two 
hundred  thousand  francs  of  debt.  In  individuals  as 
well  as  in  governments,  debt  is  the  necessary  stimu- 
lant to  production." 

On  this  subject  he  was  always  paradoxical.  He, 
who  so  rarely  admitted  that  he  was  a  genius  in  any 
thing,  thought  himself  a  brilliant  financier,  and  this 
is  why,  in  spite  of  the  many  prudent  entreaties  on 
the  part  of  his  dearest  friends,  that  he  never  would 
suffer  any  interference  in  his  affairs.  Friends  like 
Pereire  and  Mires,  thoroughly  disinterested  and 
skilful  financial  managers  ;  others,  experienced  ad- 
ministrators, M.  Edward  Dubois,  Charles  Rolland, 
and  M.  Chamborre  proposed  twenty  times,  to  recon- 
struct a  fortune  out  of  what  remained,  with  the 
reservation  that  he  should  sell  a  part  of  his  lands,  and 
that  he  should  buy  no  more  wine  from  his  vintagers. 

Lamartine  smiled  at  these  affectionate  offers,  but 
in  his  heart,  revolted  at  any  intervention  between 
him  and  debt. 


194 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


The  enormous  sums  realized  from  his  writings 
only  caused  illusions.  He  always  believed  that  with 
the  next  success,  which  came  annually,  he  would  be 
able  to  raise  the  mortgages  on  his  property.  He  had 
a  superstitious  tenderness  for  his  lands.  Milly  held 
a  large  place  in  his  heart,  by  the  recollection  of  boy- 
hood, and  as  his  birthplace,  was  sacred  to  him. 
Perhaps  there  was  a  consciousness  of  his  prodigality 
in  this  resolution  to  preserve  his  lands.  He  wanted 
to  leave  an  inheritance  as  his  uncles  had  done,  as 
well  as  a  guarantee  for  his  creditors.  Meanwhile  he 
loaded  himself  with  mortgages,  thinking  to  raise  them 
by  doubling  his  work.  At  last,  he  was  forced  to  sell 
Milly.  It  was  heart-rending.  He. thought  himself 
guilty  of  disloyalty  to  his  tenantry,  in  giving  them 
another  master,  and,  that  he  had  desecrated  the 
family  tombs  by  giving  away  his  cradle.  In  1849  at 
one  of  his  most  critical  periods,  I  heard  him  refuse 
to  take  for  Monceaux,  three  times  the  sum  that  was 
obtained  after  his  death. 

There  was  a  sadder  reason  for  his  obstinacy  than 
the  affection  for  his  lands. 

His  purchase  of  wines. 

This  is  the  local  custom.  The  proprietors  of  the 
Maconnais,  in  years  of  failure,  advance  money  to 
their  vinedressers.  This  debt  is  paid  by  the  follow- 
ing vintage,  as  one  half  of  the  product  belongs  to  the 
vinedresser,  and  is  his  capital. 


HIS  METHOD    WITH  THE   VINTAGERS.        195 

This  arrangement  is  perfectly  correct,  and  irre- 
proachable. Lamartine  found  that  he  could  borrow 
no  longer.  The  vintages  then  became  his  desperate 
resource.  He  bought,  sometimes  a  thousand  casks 
of  wine,  on  credit,  at  a  high  price,  and  sofd  them  for 
cash,  at  a  loss.  In  this  way  he  could  touch  the 
money  at  once. 

This  man,  who  had  shown  himself  so  skilful  in 
adjusting  and  equalizing  the  different  questions  of 
the  constitution :  and  who  was  extravagant  for  all 
the  fine  points  of  honor,  never  suspected  that  he  was 
committing  an  enormity  before  the  law.  His  conso- 
lation for  his  losses  was,  that  he  enriched  his  villages. 
The  peasants  who  served  him  at  Saint-Point  and  at 
Monceaux  are  now  capitalists. 

There  were,  of  course,  delays  in  payment.  The 
interest  gradually  absorbed  more  than  the  income. 
Lamartine  was  frightened  and  hence,  the  prodigious 
work  of  the  last  twenty  years  of  his  life. 

Without  mentioning  "  L'Histoire  de  la  Restaura- 
tion,"  some  parts  of  which  are  equal  to  "  Les  Giron- 
dins,"  and  is  the  most  forcible  argument  against  the 
First  Empire  ;  nor  "  Genevieve,"  nor  Raphael,  two 
master-pieces;  nor  "  L'Histoire  de  la  Turquie,"  in 
which  we  find  a  biblical  Mahomet  ;  nor  "  L'Histoire 
de  la  Russie  ;  "  he  undertook  three  immense  publi- 
cations. "  Le  Conseiller  du  peuple,"  "  Le  Civiliza- 
teur,"  and  l<  Le  Cours  de  Litterature.''  This  last 


I96  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

work,  thanks  to  manuscripts  left,  appeared  within  a 
few  months.  The  sale  of  his  works  was  unparalleled. 
He  was  enabled  to  reclaim  some  of  his  lands.  But 
the  frost  attacked  his  vines.  Every  decreasing  degree 
of  temperature  carried  away  millions  of  francs.  Credi- 
tors began  to  harass  him.  Some  friend  suggested  a 
national  subscription,  such  as  England  had  raised  to 
recompense  Cobden  and  O'Connell.  Lamartine  was 
furious. 

"7!"  he  exclaimed,  "I!  hold  out  my  hat  for 
pennies  !  I  would  rather  shoot  myself!  " 

Alas  !  it  was  then,  as  a  subterfuge,  that  he  thought 
of  an  edition  of  his  works,  published  by  himself,  by 
which  he  could  make  a  direct  appeal  to  France  and 
America.  France,  where  every  literary  man  already 
had  a  complete  edition  of  Lamartine,  did  not  respond 
well.  The  Americans  as  I  have  said  before,  had  never 
forgiven  him  for  not  coming  to  see  them.  The  re- 
ceipts did  not  cover  the  expense  of  publication. 
Lamartine  had  a  blind  confidence  in  advertisements, 
and  spent  immense  sums  for  them  alone. 

Every  succeeding  year  wore  more  heavily  upon 
him,  still,  there  were  occasional  gleams  of  hope.  Turkey 
was  grateful  for  what  he  had  written  about  Islamism. 
He  had  also  spoken  on  the  Oriental  question,  several 
times,  with  marked  effect.  He  liked  to  believe  that 
he  belonged  to  the  pastoral  races  of  the  Caucasus, 
and  often  said  that  the  best  of  men  inhabited  Asia. 


THE  SULTAN'S  GIFT 


I97 


The  sultan  Abdul-Medjid,  as  a  testimony  of  his 
gratitude  as  well  as  his  desire  to  have  a  claim  upon 
the  West  by  relieving  one  of  its  sons,  ceded  to 
Lamartine,  in  consideration  of  his  misfortunes,  a 
quarter  of  the  province  beyond  Syria,  for  a  period  of 
thirty  years.  The  poet  dreamed  of  ending  his  days 
under  the  cedars,  where  David  had  sung.  He  in- 
vited us,  all  to  emigrate  with  him,  and  found  a  French 
Colony,  under  the  true  sun.  In  the  magnificent 
concession,  he  saw  ten  times  the  amount  of  his 
debts,  in  France. 

"  All  of  you  must  be  more  or  less  involved,"  said 
he  to  us,  jestingly.  "  Come  with  me.  We  will  divide 
the  promised  land." 

He  sent  Charles  Rolland,  as  agent  to  Constanti- 
nople, who  acquitted  himself  honorably  in  the  mission. 

Lamartine  could  not  cultivate  this  newly-acquired 
territory  alone,  and  an  English  Company  offered  to 
take  it,  giving  three  hundred  thousand  or  four  hun- 
dred thousand  francs  a  year,  for  the  privilege.  The 
Divan  was  disturbed  at  the  thought  of  this  immigra- 
tion. He  wanted  the  honor  of  Lamartine  alone, 
and  not  a  British  Association,  and  consequently,  he 
refused  to  authorize  the  company. 

M.  and  Mme.  de  Lamartine  set  out  for  Constanti- 
nople. They  urged  me  to  go  with  them.  I  have 
always  repented  not  having  accepted.  I  have  since 
seen  the  Orient,  but  with  Lamartine,  it  would  have 


198 


LAMARTTNE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


had  another  color.  That  journey  was  unsuccessful. 
M.  de  Champeaux  died  on  the  voyage.  They  were 
obliged  to  abandon  all  their  hopes  upon  their  arrival 
at  Constantinople,  for  the  Sultan  was  inflexible.  He 
did  not  take  back  the  grant,  but  rented  it  for  twenty 
years  at  thirty  thousand  francs.  This  price,  by  ex- 
change, was  reduced  one  third,  and  the  balance  was 
extremely  insufficient  for  the  interests  of  the  debts. 

Lamartine  had  no  other  resource  now,  but  in 
financial  combinations.  We  knew  that  it  was  not 
for  himself  that  he  sought  fortune  so  perseveringly. 
The  ignorant  public  condemned  him,  justly,  according 
to  appearances. 

I  come  now  to  the  most  lamentable  part  of  his 
life,  where  he  placed  himself  in  an  equivocal  position. 
The  abominable  seizures  of  property,  by  the  very 
men  who  had  lived  upon  his  bounty  ;  the  harsh  legal 
processes  of  expropriation  ;  flagrant  ingratitude  and 
sordid  cupidity,  tormented  him  at  every  step.  He 
ran  from  one  extremity  to  another,  with  incessant 
appeals  for  subscribers  to  the  "  Cours  de  Literature," 
and  with  the  bait  of  a  lottery,  that  poorly  disguised 
a  subscription. 

A  friend  assisted  him,  materially,  in  this  painful 
task,  and  was  a  witness  of  the  generosity  and  great- 
ness, remaining  in  his  humiliation  and  decay.  Louis 
Ulbach  may  tell,  sometime,  of  that  long  campaign 
in  mortifications  and  refusals. 


MONE  Y  DIFF1CUL  TIES  \  99 

Lamartine  was  partly  to  blame,  but  the  most 
guilty  was  the  country. 

Lamartine  could  not  comprehend  why  the 
country  did  not  help  him  in  his  season  of  distress, 
when  he  had  opened  his  hand  so  generously  for 
her.  He  knew  at  what  price  of  pain,  and  almost 
despairing  eloquence,  he  had  saved  Paris  and 
France  by  the  Republic.  He  was  so  free  from 
selfish  interest,  that  I  cannot  doubt,  that  in  the 
multiplicity  of  his  appeals,  there  entered  a  desire  to 
give  his  country  a  chance  to  wash  its  hands  of  in- 
gratitude. 

He  had,  as  I  have  said,  an  exaggerated  ambition 
to  leave  an  estate  to  his  dear  family,  and  not  to  cause 
the  loss  of  a  penny  to  his  vinedressers,  who  were 
now  his  creditors. 

Thus  the  vine  was  his  ruin. 

As  he  well  said  at  one  time  "  it  was  the  green  cloth 
of  the  gaming  table." 

For  ten  years,  not  to  die  insolvent,  this  insatiably 
generous  man,  who  was  so  abstemious  that  he  could 
have  lived  on  the  vegetables  of  the  Brahmins,  with 
only  a  simple  fire  of  vine-fagots,  by  his  pen  alone, 
made  for  himself  a  reputation  for  cupidity.  This 
prodigal  in  alms-giving,  this  nature  so  simple  in  its 
grandeur,  passed  for  a  spendthrift  or  a  miser  in  the 
general  opinion  of  the  world.  We  had  to  submit  to 
the  reproaches  of  outsiders.  His  justification  was 


20O  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

too  long  and  too  psychological.  Politically  it  was 
majestically  imposing. 

I  must  tell  the  truth,  not  to  say  justice,  of  a  gov- 
ernment even  if  I  hate  it. 

The  Empire  offered  many  times,  to  pay  Lamar- 
tine's  debts.  At  first,  under  condition  of  accepting 
a  place  in  the  Senate,  and  the  presidency,  and 
afterwards  without  conditions.  Lamartine  did  not 
degrade  himself  by  falling  into  the  snare.  The  Em- 
pire was  willing  that  he  should  be  on  the  opposition. 

He  refused. 

These  offers  were  renewed  for  several  years,  and 
always  with  exquisite  delicacy,  for  M.  de  La  Guer- 
roniere  was  the  mediator.  They  were  made  to 
Lamartine  too,  in  his  darkest  days.  Sick  and  ex- 
hausted by  his  struggles  with  his  creditors,  and  con- 
scious of  the  scornful  pity,  that  he  had  heaped  upon 
himself,  by  his  useless  appeals,  he  always  refused, 
unhesitatingly,  in  the  same  firm  voice,  and  never 
descended  to  bitterness  to  chastise  an  offensive  gen- 
erosity. He  surpassed  Cincinnatus  in  pride,  and  was 
still  worthy  of  his  great  name.  Had  his  name  borne 
only  a  literary  signification,  it  may  be,  that  he  would 
have  sacrificed  it  to  save  his  creditors,  but  in  it,  he 
caused  the  Republic  of  the  past  to  be  respected,  and 
preserved  the  Republic  of  the  future. 

The  man  of  February  could  not  be  the  pensioner 
of  the  man  of  December. 


MONE  Y  DIFFSCUL  TIES.  2O I 

God  strikes  upon  the  loftiest  height  to  prove  that 
the  most  perfect  creature  does  not  reach  perfection 
here  below,  and  that  other  trials  await  him,  before 
the  final  purification. 

Lamartine,  who  for  thirty  years  had  wrapped 
himself  in  all  the  mantles  of  fame,  showed  himself 
too  plainly  under  the  rags  of  misfortune.  He  made 
an  exhibition  of  his  misery,  and  reproached  his  coun- 
try as  if  for  a  national  injustice. 

The  long  years  of  his  old  age,  were  devoted  to 
the  feverish  pursuit  of  money,  but  it  was  to  increase 
his  prodigality  by  the  power  of  giving  more.  I  must 
be  just  to  the  loyal  friends  who  stood  by  him.  Not 
one  turned  from  the  path  of  Belisarius.  A  circle  of 
subscribers  were  faithful  to  the  Cours  de  Litterature. 
Although  harassed  almost  beyond  endurance,  Lamar- 
tine never  knew  material  constraint.  He  reduced 
his  household  expenses,  considerably,  but  never  re- 
nounced his  hospitality,  nor  his  charities. 

His  revenues  from  Turkey,  the  modest  income 
of  Mme.  de  Lamartine  from  England,  the  Cours  d-e 
Litterature,  the  books  sold,  and  the  vintages  from 
his  reduced  property,  would  have  made  a  handsome 
living  for  any  one  else.  What  remained  after  paying 
the  first  debts,  would  have  been  enough  for  a  liquid- 
ation. Before  his  intelligence  was  clouded,  he  knew 
that  the  event  of  his  death  might  cause  regret,  but 
no  one  would  suffer  pecuniarily. 


2Q2  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

That  admirable  woman  Mile,  de  Valentine  de 
Cessiat  Lamartine,  his  niece,  has  sold  the  property 
and  paid  all  indebtedness.  By  great  personal  sacri- 
fice, she  has  bought  Saint-Point,  where  she,  hospita- 
bly, opens  the  door  to  all  who  come  to  warm  them- 
selves in  the  home,  where  once  shone  the  light  of  a 
great  man. 


XV. 

Recollections  of  Paris. 

IN  my  many  gleanings  in  the  furrows  of  this  fertile 
life,  I  find  numerous  sheaves  to  bring  upon  these 
pages,  as  they  come,  dry  or  dead,  to  my  memory. 

I  do  not  know  the  dates  of  my  harvests. 

The  seeds  that  I  throw  to  the  wind,  will  germinate 
in  the  fields  of  another,  where  perhaps  the  sun  will 
shine  more  brightly,  than  on  mine. 

I  want  to  tell  of  Lamartine  in  the  streets  of  Paris, 
where  I  often  accompanied  him.  During  the  sessions, 
and  in  the  absence  of  a  regular  secretary,  I  was  proud 
to  serve  him,  officially.  My  duties  were  limited.  I 
never  copied  for  him.  That  work  was  for  those  whom 
he  could  pay.  Every  day,  I  replied  to  five  or  six  let- 
ters, which  I  carried  to  him  the  next  day  to  sign, 
This  he  often  did  without  reading  them.  So  I  have, 
unintentionally,  sent  false  autographs  to  many  happy 
individuals,  who  must  have  thought  that  Lamartine 
had  a  very  poor  epistolary  style,  and  an  equally  poor 
penmanship. 

I  have,  doubtless,  been  the  cause  of  many  heart- 
beatings,  for  almost  always  my  replies  were  to  en- 
thusiastic verses,  or  collections  of  poetry  sent  to  the 


2O4 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


master.  Sometimes  they  were  declarations  of  love, 
addressed  to  the  lover  of  Graziella  and  Elvira,  whis- 
pering soul-confidences,  to  a  sexagenarian  rejuvenated 
by  their  admiration.  I  have  learned  from  this  task, 
that  women  especially  poetical  woman,  have  a  great 
deal  of  audacity  in  their  letters. 

Lamartine  replied  to  the  most  private  letters  him- 
self. Those  that  I  read  came  from  convents  where 
the  recluses  sighed  for  liberty,  or  from  provinces,  too 
far  away  to  be  compromised  by  these  confessions.  It 
was  some  Elvira,  sitting  on  the  borders  of  a  lake, 
where  the  bark  of  Raphael  never  passed,  or  some 
Laurence,  languishing  in  the  listless  shadow  of  a  clois- 
ter, where  the  confessor  never  recalled  a  Jocelyn. 

Lamartine  begged  me  always  to  reply  to  these 
by  generalities  and  not  to  be  discouraging. 

"  Ah  !  if  the  flower  of  the  soul  had  two  blossom- 
ings !  "  as  he  says  somewhere. 

For  a  poet,  he  held  to  a  system  of  good  moral  and 
practical  sense.  He  could  not  take  time  to  read  all 
that  was  addressed  to  him,  and  send  back  good  advice. 
He  would  not  stimulate  mistaken  vocations,  nor  mis- 
lead the  minds  of  unknown  and  sincere  young  people, 
by  false  hopes  of  becoming  poets,  nor  would  he  be 
cold,  and  unsympathetic  to  enthusiasts.  He  either 
read  or  listened  to  the  reading  of  some  part  of  the 
collection,  and  then  gave  me  some  idea  of  his  real  im- 
pression. I  do  not  believe  that  thus  I  have  ever 


WALK'S  IN  PARIS.  205 

clipped  the  wings  of  a  future  Apollo,  or  developed 
illusions  by  hypocritical  praises  in  the  mind  of  a  can- 
didate, who  was  not  capable  of  taking  a  diploma. 

Among  other  masters,  Vigny  and  Beranger  have 
taken  much  pains  to  send  back  a  conscientious  ap- 
preciation, in  an  article  upon  the  book  dedicated  to 
them.  I  have  always  had  a  profound  admiration  for 
this  exquisite  honesty.  It  is  true,  that  they  were 
not  occupied  with  politics  as  Lamartine  was.  When 
the  Assembly  was  not  in  session,  Lamartine  would 
take  me  for  a  long  excursion,  or  for  some  visits.  He 
always  walked  until  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  when  he 
employed  a  coup6. 

These  days  were  always  full  of  enjoyment.  He 
breathed  in  his  freedom,  with  full  lungs,  like  a  boy 
just  out  of  school.  His  visits  were  returned  by  card. 
If  he  suspected  that  the  lady  was  at  home,  he  gave 
me  the  card,  and  the  concierge  would  salute  me 
very  deferentially,  probably,  having  imagined  Lam- 
artine quite  a  different  sort  of  person.  When  there 
was  a  certainty  of  absence,  he.  left  his  name,  and  ex- 
pressed his  regrets.  His  true  visits  were  made  in  the 
open  air.  If  we  met  anyone  whose  face  was  familiar 
(and  whom  did  he  not  know  ?)  he  would  stop  for  a 
long  time,  talking  to  them.  One  of  those  whom  we 
no  longer  meet,  was  Major  P.,  the  grandson  of  a  great 
painter,  who  was,  and  is  yet,  one  of  Lamartine's 
truest  friends.  He  has  been  in  the  United  States  for 


206  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

a  long  time.     He  is  an  American  of  tender  and  noble 

character,    who    has     given    his    best    thoughts    to 

Liberty. 

He  used  to  be  accompanied  by  a  very  young  girl, 

whom  he  introduced  to    Lamartine  with   moistened 

eyes  ;  the  pride  of  paternity  shone  in  his  tender  look. 

His  whole  conversation  was  of  her  and  Liberty. 

One  day  we  met  him  alone.     He  was  gloomy  and 

nervous.     He  walked    like  one  condemned  to  death. 

He  gave  us  his  confidence.  His  loyalty  had  been 
surprised.  A  religious  emissary  had  glided  into  his 
house,  and  had  stolen  his  child.  Fanaticism  had  been 
as  merciless,  and  less  excusable  than  passion.  The 
door  of  the  convent  had  closed  upon  that  smiling 
youth.  The  daughter  now  loved  another,  more  than 
her  father.  God  had  been  given  the  ferocity  of  a 
Don  Juan.  The  evil  was  without  remedy.  The  vows 
had  been  pronounced.  The  Jesuits  had  profited  by 
innocence.  For  a  long  time,  the  unhappy  man  wept 
without  knowing  that  he  was  in  the  street.  There 
was  an  eloquence  in  «.  grief  so  genuine.  Lamar- 
tine was  more  than  paternal.  He  offered  to  go  to 
that  "  house  of  God,"  where  God  was  so  manifestly 
absent,  and  bring  the  stolen  lamb  back  to  her  fold. 
A  thunder  of  indignation  burst  from  him,  against 
these  impious  sequestrations,  and  bigoted  visits  from 
convents.  He  demanded  before  heaven,  the  natural 
claims  of  a  father.  He  had  all  the  holy  revoltings  of 


MAJOR  P.  207 

John  Huss,  and  the  sarcasm  of  Luther,  against 
Catholicism.  If  Major  P.  could  have  been  consoled, 
he  would  have  found  relief  in  these  words.  But  a 
father  does  not  avenge  himself  upon  his  child. 

He  thanked  Lamartine,  but  would  not  compro- 
mise him  by  a  useless  intervention.  The  stone  does 
not  hear.  Devotion  has  ears  of  stone. 

I  never  shall  forget  this  scene.  The  noisy  street ; 
the  strongman  bowed  down  under  the  unrelenting 
hand  of  the  Church  ;  the  orator  powerful  as  a  Bossuet 
for  combating  it,  and  gentle  as  a  Christ,  for  curing 
its  evils. 

Major  P.  will  pardon  me  for  betraying  his  sorrow 
which  is  still  severe,  but  his  unhappiness  shows  a 
social  danger  of  which  I  must  warn  other  fathers. 

I  often  went  with  Lamartine  to  visit  the  studios. 
As  he  only  went  among  masters,  and  desired  to  meet 
them,  he  did  not  play  the  game  of  cards  at  their  door. 

Preault  was  one  of  his  favorites.  His  broadly 
sculptured  marbles,  showed  a  strong  thought,  rather 
than  delicacy  of  outline,  but  .his  perfectly  chiselled 
words  remain,  and  make  the  fortune  of  those  who 
sell  them. 

Once  he  said  of  Pradier ; 

"  He  goes  every  morning  to  Athens,  and  comes 
every  evening  to  rue  de  Breda." 

He  collected  a  great  many  thoughts  to  unroll 
before  Lamartine,  who  was  no  longer  brilliant  every 


208  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

day,  but  would  respond  with  exuberance  if  the  right 
chord  was  touched. 

Sometimes  we  went  to  see  Delaroche,  and  also 
Gudin,  who  probably  does  not  remember  the  young 
man  who  used  to  follow  Lamartine.  I  had  a  letter 
of  introduction  to  Delaroche  when  he  was  at  Rome. 
I  can  still  see  his  house  in  the  Pincian  quarter,  and 
the  little  salon  where  the  gallant  Monsignori  used 
to  search  for  the  sketches  of  the  beautiful  ladies  and 
devotees,  belonging  to  a  society,  which  has  now  dis- 
appeared. 

M.  Delaroche  had  a  great  kindness  for  me,  un- 
known as  I  was  to  him,  but  for  Lamartine  his  wel- 
come was  the  refinement  of  good  taste.  In  later 
years,  he  modified  his  style  in  painting.  A  few 
months  before  his  death,  which  surprised  him  too 
soon  for  great  renown,  he  said  to  Lamartine  ; 

"  I  am  busy  writing  my  Meditations,"  and  led 
him  before  those  marvellous  works,  relating  the  New 
Testament  stories  in  all  their  biblical  simplicity. 
Lamartine  appreciated  the  inspirations  in  the  man- 
gers, and  holy  homes,  but  perhaps  he  did  not  like 
the  comparison  Delaroche  had  dared  to  make. 

He  said  to  me  as  we  went  away ; 

"  These  may  be  Meditations,  but  Love  is  the  one 
thing  lacking." 

We  would,  then,  go  to  Adam  Salomon's.  He 
always  had  something  to  do  at  Lamartine's.  He 


ADAM  SALOMON.  2OQ 

walked,  and  talked  art  and  sculpture,  with  Mme.  de 
Lamartine.  Lamartine  promised  to  give  a  sitting 
for  a  medallion.  Salomon  also  succeeded  in  gaining 
a  promise  for  a  photograph.  Every  thing  should  be 
pardoned  him,  for  he  has  modelled  the  most  beau- 
tiful bust  extant  of  Lamartine,  and  sent  to  the  tomb 
at  Saint-Point  a  fine  monumental  statue  of  Mme.  de 
Lamartine.  Salomon  has  always  been  an  artist,  and 
has  preserved  his  individuality,  even  in  working  a 
machine.  He  has  gained  a  fortune  with  his  camera, 
and  has  not  spoiled  his  artistic  touch  by  dabbling 
with  collodium.  His  greatest  success  is  little  known. 
Lamartine  detested  a  photograph,  which  he  regarded, 
with  some  reason,  as  a  negation  of  thought.  Never- 
theless, there  are  photographers  who  are  artists. 
The  fanatically  pure  and  simple,  scorn  the  re-touch. 
I  have  always  suspected  the  successful  of  practising 
this  art  in  secret.  Lamartine,  however,  liked  Adam 
Salomon  very  much,  although  he  despised  his  busi- 
ness beyond  measure,  and  Salomon  allowed  him  to 
say  so. 

One  day  he  brought  to  Lamartine  two  portraits. 
They  were  as  delicate,  as  the  canvass  of  Lawrence, 
and  inspired,  as  the  heads  of  Ingres. 

Lamartine  had  one  hour  of  delight. 

Then  Salomon  put  the  pen  into  his  hand,  and 
dictated  to  him  for  the  "  Cours  de  Litterature,"  a 
recommendation  for  his  studio  of  Photography.  I 


210  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

do  not  believe  that  any  one  ever  attained  a  result 
apparently  so  hopeless. 

In  going  from  Salomon's,  we  passed  by  rue  Co- 
quenard,  now  rue  Lamartine.  I  was  astonished  that 
the  ugliest  street  in  Paris,  should  bear  the  most 
beautiful  name  in  history. 

"  It  is  a  delightful  joke,"  said  Lamartine.  "  You 
have  often  seen  a  young  artist  called  Tourreau,  at 
our  friends,  Adolphe  de  La  Tour's  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  he  was  a  young  man  of  talent." 

"  He  had  the  misfortune  to  live  in  rue  Coquenard. 
When,  pushed  to  the  last  extremity,  he  was  obliged 
to  give  his  address,  he  used  to  swear.  He  tore  the 
leaf,  bearing  the  name,  out  of  his  pocket-book.  He 
would  not  admit  that  an  artist's  canvass  could  be 
found  in  such  a  street.  It  became  a  mania  with  him, 
and  the  misfortune  was,  that  he  liked  his  studio, 
and  could  not  bear  to  move.  February  came.  He 
welcomed  it  with  acclamation,  but  only  for  personal 
considerations.  It  was  not  the  freedom  of  his  coun- 
try, but  his  own  freedom  that  he  saw.  All  night  of 
the  twenty  fifth  and  twenty  sixth  he  worked.  He 
painted  on  tin,  first,  a  dark  blue  ground  and  then  put 
in  white  letters  '  Rue  Lamartine.'  Before  daylight, 
he  took  a  ladder,  and  nailed  these  plates  at  every 
corner  of  the  street.  Those  who  went  to  sleep  in  rue 
Coquenard,  awoke  in  rue  Lamartine.  There  was  not 
a  single  protestation.  My  name  had  more  resonance 


SA INTE-DE  UVE.  211 

than  that  of  the  poor  citizen  Coquenard,  with  whom 
the  reactionary  newspapers  so  amiably  confounded 
me,  two  months  afterwards.  I  learned  of  my  new 
glory,  the  next  morning,  at  the  Hotel-de-Ville.  My 
friends  laughed  heartily,  and  applauded  the  substi- 
tution. O,  unrolling  of  destinies  !  My  name  is  now 
unpopular,  but  familiar  to  the  coachmen.  All  that 
remains  of  me,  in  the  Revolution  of  February,  is  that 
I  replace  M.  Coquenard." 

Another  day  we  were  walking  in  one  of  the  little 
streets,  now  obliterated,  leading  from  the  Hotel-de- 
Ville  to  Palais  Royale. 

"  Look  down  that  passage,"  said  Lamartine.  "  I 
have  witnessed  an  almost  incredible  scene  there.  I 
will  tell  it  to  you  alone,  but  after  I  am  dead  you  may 
publish  it,  for  it  is  historical.  I  would  never  have 
spoken  of  it,  if  Sainte-Beuve  had  not  attached  himself 
to  the  Empire,  and  if  he  did  not  insult  the  men  of  the 
Revolution  every  day.  Remember  this.  It  was  in 
the  first  days  of  March  1848,  when  I  was  drinking 
in  great  draughts  of  popularity,  having  just  escaped 
the  draught  of  hemlock.  I  was  walking  down  the 

O  O 

square.  Every  body  recognized  me,  saluted  and  fol- 
lowed me.  Sainte-Beuve  was  passing,  and  putting 
himself  in  front  of  the  procession,  took  my  arm.  He 
was  suspected  of  clericalism  then,  though  not  long 
after,  he  went  over  to  Atheism.  His  monkish  face 
displeased  the  crowd.  I  do  not  know  whether  he 


212  LAMAR  TINE  A ND  HIS  FRIEND S. 

heard  the  murmurs,  or  imagined  them.  He  dragged 
me  along.  Night  was  falling.  He  pushed  me  into 
that  passage  to  hide  himself.  The  people  outside 
were  crying,  "  Vive  Lamartine,"  and  "  Vive  la  Re- 
publique,"  but  there  were  no  menaces.  Then,  I  had 
the  most  lamentable  spectacle.  Sainte-Beuve  crazy 
with  fear,  almost  knelt  to  me,  crying,  "  Save  me  ! 
You  have  made  them  lay  down  their  arms  ! " 

"  Yes,  I  have  seen  that  grace  of  mind,  that  ele- 
gance of  style,  that  Athenian  purist,  kneeling  on 
these  slimy  pavements  !  Joseph  Delorme  has  kissed 
my  hands !  " 

This  was  a  painful  revelation,  and  destroyed  my 
past  admiration.  Sainte-Beuve  had  a  strong  talent 
in  a  weak  character.  I  give  this  to  the  public  as  I 
have  beerr  commanded  and  it  is  important  that  history 
should  know,  that  Sainte-Beuve  was  the  only  serious 
man  of  letters,  that  the  Empire  can  boast  of  having 
seduced. 

The  house  has  been  destroyed.  May  the  shame 
disappear  from  that  memory,  with  the  stones  that 
heard  his  cry ! 

Sainte-Beuve  has  made  a  fine  courageous  speech 
in  the  Senate.  His  liberalism  of  the  last  year  has 
been  his  repentance.  Such  repentances  are  accepted 
in  the  heaven  of  the  Republic.  Lamartine  often  went 
with  me  to  see  Adrien  Decourcelle,  who  had  drama- 
tized a  part  of  GenevieVe.  I  had  the  pleasure  of  in- 


ADRIEN  DECOURCELLE, 


213 


troducing  them.  Lamartine  highly  esteemed  a  genius 
so  essentially  French,  from  which  was  to  come  that 
ingenious  "  Dictionaire  de  Docteur  Gregoire,"  that 
might  have  borne  the  signature  of  Rivarol  or  Se"  vigne. 

I  am  sure  that  the  recollection  of  these  rare  visits 
are  dearer  to  Decourcelle,  than  the  memory  of  his 
most  successful  representation. 

One  circumstance  brought  Decourcelle  very  near 
to  Lamartine.  He  had  been  presented  after  the 
success  of  the  drama,  but  the  subsequent  interviews 
were  rare ;  they  were,  however,  frequent  enough  to 
rouse  an  enthusiasm  which  soon  showed  its  generosity. 
It  was  at  the  time  of  the  first  appearance  of  the 
"  Cours  de  Litterature."  Decourcelle  had  followed 
with  passionate  ardor  the  consul  who  had  touched 
gold  every  where,  and  had  come  from  Rome  with 
empty  hands.  He  exerted  himself,  to  get  subscrib- 
ers. He  came  to  Lamartine's  house,  rue  de  la  Ville 
d'Eveque,  and  gave  Mme.  Gresset  the  price  of  fifty 
subscriptions.  He  was  about  to  give  the  names,  when 
the  astonished  Mme.  Gresset,  not  knowing  this  ad- 
mirer, insisted  upon  speaking  to  M.  de  Lamartine. 
Decourcelle  was  sent  for.  It  may  be  that  Lamartine 
had  not  manifested  much  sympathy  for  the  dramatist 
of  Genevieve,  and  Decourcelle  had  noticed  it. 

"You  take  fifty  subscriptions?"  said  Lamartine 
"  are  they  for  yourself?  '' 

"  I  wish  that  my  gratitude  could  afford  such  a 


214 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


luxury,"  replied  Decourcelle,  "  but  I  must  acknowl- 
edge that  I  have  forty-nine  friends,  who,  every  month, 
share  with  me  the  pleasure  of  reading  your  publica- 
tion." 

"  '  Forty-nine  !  '  The  best  friend  I  have,  has  never 
brought  more  than  seven.  You  must  have  taken  a 
great  deal  of  trouble.'  " 

"  I  have  run  about  a  little,  but  the  doors  have 
opened  easily.  I  have  my  '  sesame.'  " 

Lamartine  could  not  resist  kissing  the  loyal  face 
of  our  friend,  who  from  that  time  was  among  the  least 
platonic  and  most  faithful. 

Thus  we  went  on,  tasting  at  all  the  springs  of 
genial  spirits,  sometimes  at  Michelet's,  sometimes  at 
Emile  de  Girardin's  but  most  frequently  at  M.  de 
Chamborran's  and  Dupont-White's. 

M.  de  Chamborran,  a  legitimist  and  clerical  had 
no  point  in  common  with  Lamartine  except  the  heart. 
In  spite  of  the  principles  separating  them,  the  devo- 
tion of  M.de  Chamborran  was  strong  and  true  to  the 
end.  He  was  so  firm  in  his  faith,  that  Lamartine 
always  enjoyed  their  discussions.  He,  who  often 
converted  whole  assemblies  never  could  change  M.  de 
Chamborran.  This  fidelity  delighted  him,  and  was 
an  unerring  augury  for  other  qualities. 

M.  Dupont-White  was  writing  for  the  "  Bien  Pub- 
lic "  of  Paris.  His  very  remarkable  articles  have  since 
then  become  books,  and  have  taken  a  high  place. 


THE  MILLANDS. 


21$ 


It  is  impossible  to  find  the  question  of  Political  Econ- 
omy, treated  with  more  ability. 

These  two  friends  followed  Lamartine  assiduously 
through  life,  and  follow  him  in  death,  though  happily 
we  still  have  them  with  us. 

The  "  Conseilleur  du  Peuple,"  had  established  in- 
timate relations  between  Lamartine  and  M.  M.  Mires 
and  Millaud  who  were  the  proprietors.  M.  de  Mil- 
laud  had  a  capital  of  five  hundred  francs,  when  he 
proposed  the  scheme  to  Lamartine,  who  helped  him 
gain  more  than  a  million  to  divide  with  Mires.  In 
the  first  degree  of  fortune,  Millaud  permitted  the 
luxury  of  gold-bowed  spectacles.  Arriving  at  the  top 
of  the  ladder  he  owned  a  house  garnished  with  the 
same  precious  metal. 

I  often  went  there,  with  Lamartine  during  an 
afternoon.  Mme.  Millaud,  by  her  beautiful  golden 
hair,  was  in  harmony  with  her  surroundings.  She 
had  a  Parisian  smile  on  the  lips  of  an  oriental  Jewess. 
Lamartine  used  to  say,  that  he  thought  of  her  as 
the  Queen  of  Sheba  when  she  went  to  visit  King  Sol- 
omon. 

Coming  from  Mme.  Millaud's,  we  passed  directly 
by  the  house  of  M.  Thiers,  Place  Saint-Georges.  I 
had  a  great  desire  to  see  this  illustrious  man,  which 
would  have  been  still  greater,  had  I  foreseen  him  on 
the  threshold  of  a  Republic,  out  of  which  he  will 
doubtless  have  the  honor  of  founding  an  imperishable 


2 1 6  LA  MAR  TINE  AND  HIS  FR I  ENDS. 

edifice.  As  we  passed  the  gate,  Lamartine  cast  a 
glance  among  the  trees,  but  did  not  enter. 

One  day  when  he  was  in  a  confidential  mood,  I 
said  to  him. 

"  Why  do  you  never  go  to  see  M.  Thiers  ?  " 

"  We  were  on  the  point  of  exchanging  shots  at 
the  foot  of  the  tribune  at  one  time,  and  that  rather 
hinders  me  from  telling  Thiers  what  I  think  of  him." 

"  I  am  always  surprised  that  you  read  everything 
that  he  writes,  with  so  much  interest,"  said  I.  "  His 
style  is  so  different  from  yours." 

"  My  dear  boy,  opposites  attract.  In  my  younger 
days,  I  was  only  drawn  towards  the  women  of  the 
Caucasian  race,  yet  the  world  made  me  a  descendant 
of  the  Celts.  Thiers  reaches  his  profundity  by  his 
wonderful  clearness,  and  when  I  spend  a  part  of  the 
night,  in  reading  those  pages,  as  pellucid  as  the  waters 
of  a  lake,  I  am  no  more  ready  to  come  from  them, 
than  to  come  from  the  waters  of  Lake  Leman  into  a 
summer's  sun.  Thiers  is  good  sense  crystallized.  So 
long  as  France  has  such  a  man,  she  will  not  be  en- 
tirely lost.  I  am  too  much  of  a  hurna'nitarian,  and 
he  is  too  much  of  a  nationalist,  but  let  the  great 
crisis  come,  and  his  patriotism  has  the  right  muscle 
for  raising  the  country  !  " 

I  have  always  remembered  this  prophecy  and  in 
my  voting  have  felt  a  confidence  imposed  by  the 
recollection  and  a  gratitude  from  the  necessity, 


AN  ILL  USTRIO  US  A  SSEMBL  Y. 


217 


Not  wishing  to  forget  any  one  in  this  review, 
where  no  one  should  be  lacking  to  the  rendezvous 
of  admiration  and  friendship,  I  come  now  to  the 
most  remarkable. 

Events  are  like  dice  and  often  throw  men  to- 
gether by  chance.  I  do  not  think  there  are  many 
examples  of  this  as  striking  as  the  one  which  I  shall 
relate. 

One  Sunday  morning  in  1847,  I  went,  according 
to  habit,  to  rue  de  1'Universite' .  Sunday  was  generally 
given  up  to  audiences,  and  I  only  passed  through 
without  staying.  I  walked  through  the  antechamber 
and  great  cabinet,  and  opened  Lamartine's  door. 
There  were  only  three  with  him,  but  what  a  reunion ! 

Chateaubriand,  Beranger  and  Lamennais.  All 
upon  the  most  intimate  footing.  Certainly,  the  three 
most  illustrious,  and  different  men  of  a  contempo- 
raneous period. 

In  my  imagination,  I  still  seethe  group.  Chateau- 
briand, with  his  great  head,  cold  and  firm,  was  sitting 
on  a  little  chair  near  the  window.  Beranger  heavy 
and  massive,  with  long  white  hair,  was  standing  by 
the  mantel-piece.  Lamennais  half  concealed,  was 
almost  lost  in  the  corner  of  the  divan,  and  Lamartine 
was  sitting  on  his  bed,  for  want  of  a  chair,  trying  to 
keep  down  the  grey-hounds,  leaping  upon  him. 

If  a  stranger  had  been  asked  which  was  Chateau- 
briand, he  would  have  pointed  to  Beranger,  whose 


2 1 8  LAMAR TINE  A ND  HIS  FRIEND .9, 

patriarchal  forehead  might  have  been  the  home  of  the 
"  Genie  du  Christianisme." 

Chateaubriand  came  from  the  distant  horizons  of 
legitimacy,  upon  which  he  often  affected  to  turn  his 
back.  Beranger  had  sung  of  "  Lisette,"  and  unfor- 
tunately also  of  the  Empire.  Lamennais,  a  weak 
though  gigantic  column  of  Ultramontanism,  at  this 
time  represented  free  thought  in  its  most  prophetic 
expression,  and  the  Revolution  in  its  most  absolute 
Radicalism.  He  was  timid  in  his  sectarian  charac- 
teristics. Lamartine  who  pretended  to  be  a  Catholic 
of  the  Restoration  was  soon  to  proclaim  the  Republic. 

There  had  never  been  men  more  separated  by 
their  antecedents,  and  there  never  could  be  an  inti- 
macy more  imposing. 

I  had  not  power  to  open  the  door  entirely.  It 
was  a  most  enviable  place  for  a  witness  and  listener, 
and  I  would  have  given  a  great  deal  to  have  heard 
what  they  said.  I  was  then  only  a  child  among  these 
old  men  and  frightfully  insignificant  among  men  of 
genius.  My  poor  individuality  would  have  totally 
disappeared  in  so  much  radiance  and  my  great  dis- 
proportion might  have  constrained  them.  I  made  a 
sign  to  Lamartine,  who  encouraged  me  to  enter.  I 
do  not  know  whether  I  was  courageous  or  afraid  but 
I  closed  the  door  and  went  away,  thus  lowering  the 
curtain  upon  one  of  the  most  remarkable  scenes  of 
my  life. 


CHA  TEA  UBRIAND. 


219 


All  were  not  equal  in  genius,  that  word  is  too 
grand  for  Be"  ranger,  but  they  possessed  in  themselves, 
all  the  passions  of  their  century. 

What  could  they  talk  about,  without  tearing  each 
other  ?  Politics,  philosophy  or  religion  ? 

They  harmonized  in  courtesy,  and  so  the  concert 
could  not  have  a  false  note. 

Certainly,  the  only  sceptic  there  was  Chateau- 
briand. 


XVI 

Arranging  the  Drama. 

TN  December  1849,  at  Cormatin,  I  received  a  let- 
•*-  ter,  as  follows; 

"  Come  with  Boussin,  and  spend  a  fortnight  at 
Monceaux.  I  need  you  both  to  write  some  verses." 

Hippolyte  Boussin  was  a  young  man  as  talented 
as  he  was  idle,  living  in  the  same  village  with  me,  and 
with  whom  I  have  spent  my  summers  and  autumns, 
for  the  last  twenty-five  years.  His  indolence  was 
never  visible  in  politics  or  friendship. 

He  was  roused  at  the  name  of  Lamartine,  and  his 
trunk  was  soon  ready.  We  could  not  comprehend 
why  we  were  sent  for. 

The  author  of  the  "  Meditations  "  and  "  Jocelyn  " 
needed  us  to  make  rhymes  ! 

This  enigma  puzzled  us  through  the  thirty  kilo- 
metres separating  Cormatin  from  Monceaux.  It  flat- 
tered us  too,  for  from  another  than  Lamartine,  we 
should  have  felt  that  there  was  some  subterfuge. 
The  chateau  was  illuminated.  Fragrant  odors  came 
from  the  kitchen.  All  the  stoves  sang.  A  great 
case  marked  "  Chevet,"  was  in  the  vestibule.  We 
were  invited  to  the  wedding-feast  of  Gamache.  But 


TOUSSAINT  LOUVERTURE  221 

the  poetry  ?  Were  we  to  write  madrigals  for  the 
young  ladies  or  was  Mme.  de  Lamartine  going  to 
hold  a  "  Cour  d'Amours  ?  " 

We  questioned  the  servants. 

There  were  no  guests  at  the  chateau. 

A  great  table  was  spread  in  the  dining-room, 
as  when  the  sisters  and  nieces  were  assembled. 
Lamartine  was  busy  superintending  arrangements, 
and  consulting  with  his  butler  as  to  the  wines  to  be 
served. 

"  You  know  that  I  am  ruined,"  said  he,  as  soon 
as  he  saw  us. 

We  knew  it  only  too  well,  though  at  that  moment 
appearances  were  very  strongly  against  it. 

"  This  is  what  has  happened.  I  have  sold 
"  Toussaint  1'Ouverture,"  to  Michel  Levy  and  Mires 
for  thirty  thousand  francs." 

"You  have  sold  Toussaint?"  I  interrupted  in 
astonishment.  I  knew  the  grandeur  and  beauties  of 
this  drama,  and  thirty  thousand  francs  seemed  almost 
nothing,  and  with  the  added  honor  of  the  name  of 
the  Founder  of  the  Republic,  its  value  was  immeasur- 
ably enhanced. 

"  I  have  sold  him  as  his  old  master  did,"  Lamar- 
tine replied.  "  They  want  to  begin  rehearsing  it,  in  a 
month,  at  Porte-Saint-Martin,  and  the  play  is  not  yet 
finished.  An  act  and  several  scenes  are  lacking.  We 
shall  have  to  hurry.  Can  you  rhyme  easily,  Boussin ! " 


222  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

I  replied  for  my  friend,  whose  modesty  embar- 
rassed him,  and  guaranteed  a  facility  which  hindered 
him  from  working. 

"  Then  we  will  look  over  the  drama,"  continued 
Lamartine.  "  Moderate  your  ardor,  Boussin  1'Ouver- 
ture.  I  expect  Mires,  Le"  vy,  and  Frederick  Lemaitre 
this  evening." 

I  was  perplexed.  I  had  seen  the  manuscripts,  and 
felt  sure  that  there  were  already  five  acts  to  the 
drama. 

"  Do  you  want  to  add  a  '  tableau  ?  '  "  I  asked. 

Lamartine  almost  colored. 

"  No,  but  the  fifth  act  is  a  little  Shakespearian," 
he  replied.  "  These  gentlemen  are  coming  by  post, 
and  they  ought  to  be  here,  by  this  time." 

"  Perhaps,  they  got  down  at  Macon  to  change 
their  dress." 

"  I  hope  not.  We  have  every  thing  ready  for 
them  here.  Go  and  see  if  every  thing  is  right  in 
Frederick  Lemaitre's  room.  He  is  a  capricious 
genius." 

The  bells  sounded  in  the  avenue,  and  the  travel- 
lers soon  made  their  appearance.  There  were  four 
of  them;  Frederick  had  brought  his  son  Charles,  who 
was  an  actor  of  talent,  and  had  appeared  in  several 
dramas  with  my  friend  Charles  Brot.  He  died  two 
years  ago,  of  a  cruel  fever,  in  the  full  vigor  of  man- 
hood. I  only  knew  Frederick  Lemaitre  from  having 


FREDERICK  LEMAITRE.  223 

applauded  him  in  all  his  representations,  since  my 
college  days.  He  was  one  of  the  deities  of  our  ro- 
mantic Olympus.  He  has  been  without  exception, 
one  of  the  most  dazzling  actors  of  our  century,  and 
according  to  our  fathers,  could  only  have  been  sur- 
passed by  Talma.  He  has  created  types,  which  leave 
an  impression  in  the  memory  as  distinct,  as  the 
medallions  we  find  in  the  museums.  He  has  tran- 
scended every  possibility,  in  his  impersonation  of  the 
"  Joueur,"  "  Kean,"  "Richard  Darlington,"  and 
"  Buridan."  He  rises  to  such  a  lyric  height  in  "  Ruy- 
Blas,"  that  he  seems  to  improvise  the  immortal  verses 
of  Victor  Hugo,  and  the  next  day  personifies,  in  a 
character  of  scarcely  respectable  caprice,  the  greatest 
audacity  and  impudence  to  be  found  in  a  class  of 
speculators.  Since  that  time  the  Bourse  has  had  an 
unenviable  reputation,  and  all  the  efforts  of  honest 
men  cannot  wash  out  its  stains. 

There  were  the  notes  of  a  seraph  in  Frederick's 
voice,  and  eloquence  in  every  gesture.  He  has  made 
more  feminine  hearts  beat  than  ever  did  Don  Juan. 

I  recalled  all  this,  as  I  saw  him  enter  the  gallery 
at  Monceaux.  Don  Caesar  de  Bazan,  dressed  in  a 
blue  coat  for  the  occasion,  did  not  hold  himself  very 
firmly  on  his  legs.  Lamartine  intimidated  him. 
Mires  followed.  I  must  acknowledge,  that  so  near 
the  author,  one  did  not  dream  of  Robert  Macaire, 
His  relations  with  Lamartine,  were  through  the  "  Con- 


224 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


seilleur  du  Peuple."  He  felt  that  he  was  needed  and 
yet  was  not  at  ease,  in  a  house  where  "  contre- 
marques  ''  were  not  sold. 

In  spite  of  his  acuteness,  he  neither  foresaw  his 
immense  fortune,  nor  his  disasters,  nor  that  he,  a 
Jew,  would  support  the  Pope,  nor  that  his  daughter 
would  marry  a  duke,  nor  that  after,  apparently  hav- 
ing made  many  dupes  among  his  share-holders,  his 
courage  and  good-humor,  in  the  face  of  those  over- 
whelming suits,  which  the  more  guilty  escaped,  would 
be  worth  to  him  just  as  many  faithful  friends  as  he 
had  victims.  He  was  more  than  loyal,  in  all  his 
relations  with  Lamartine.  As  I  have  said,  he  offered 
to  put  himself  at  the  head  of  Lamartine's  affairs,  arid 
he  would  have  saved  him.  He  loved  Lamartine 
passionately,  and  there  was  almost  a  tenderness  in 
the  contracts  he  made,  and  in  the  payments. 

Many,  undoubtedly,  have  gone  through  life  more 
scrupulously,  but  with  fewer  desires  and  efforts  to 
make  themselves  better. 

The  third  comer,  who  was  to  amass  a  fortune  also, 
was  the  great  publisher,  Michel  Levy.  By  paying 
only  the  price  of  small  pastries  for  books,  he  had 
driven  all  the  romances  into  the  newspapers.  Ob- 
serving my  intimacy  with  Lamartine,  and  knowing, 
too,  that  I  wrote,  be  offered  his  services,  as  publisher. 

Six  months  later,  I  proposed  to  him,  to  publish 
the  romance  "  Henri  de  Bourbon,"  which  had  much 


FREDERICK  LEMA I TRE.  2  2  5 

increased  the  circulation  of  "  L'Evenement."  M. 
Michel  LeVy  scarcely  recognized  me,  and  apparently 
had  forgotten  his  imprudent  offer.  Not  so  very  im- 
prudent, after  all,  for  the  romance,  under  the  title  of 
"  Le  dernier  Roi,"  has  passed  through  several  editions. 

Lamartine  led  his  guests  to  their  rooms  before 
dinner,  and  here  was  the  first  incident.  Frederick 
announced  that  he  would  sleep  at  Macon,  and  would 
come  to  Monceaux  every  morning.  All  observations 
upon  derangement  and  loss  of  time  were  useless. 

Lamartine  could  insist  no  longer.  He  suspected 
a  travelling  companion.  But  it  was  something  else. 
Mires  and  Levy  accepted  the  entire  hospitality. 
Lamartine  was  very  happy,  and  made  all  his  guests 
feel  at  ease.  Gaiety  was  in  order.  Soon  another 
incident  occurred,  to  disturb  the  serenity.  Frederick 
was  drinking  water.  The  reports  concerning  him 
were  false. 

Lamartine  passed  him  the  wine  of  Lebanon  and 
Cyprus,  of  which  he  was  so  proud. 

"  I  drink  wine  only  in  "Lucrezia  Borgia  "  replied 
Frederick,  who  appeared  strangely  preoccupied. 

Mme.  de  Lamartine  believed  the  reports,  and  she 
said,  "  Perhaps,  you  are  in  the  habit  of  drinking  other 
wines."  Frederick  was  embarrassed  at  so  much 
attention. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  Bordeaux." 

"  Why  didn't  you  say  so,  at  once,"  said  Lamartine, 


226  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS, 

"  I  have  some  that  came  from  the  Marquis  de  La- 
grange  :  the  most  famous  cellar  of  Medoc.  John, 
go  and  fetch  it.  ' 

Frederick's  embarrassment  increased.    . 

"  You  are  very  good,"  said  he.  "  I  would  not 
disturb  you  for  any  thing.  I  would  much  rather  have 
this  water.  It  is  perfect." 

"  Do  you  suspect  my  Medoc  ?  "  said  Lamartine, 
laughing. 

Frederick  was  brave,  however,  and  he  continued, 
"I  feel  on  uncertain  ground,  and  frankness  is  the  most 
beautiful  virtue.  For  twenty  years,  I  have  drank 
only  a  particular  kind  of  Bordeaux." 

"  Tell  me    what  it  is,  and  I  will  have  it  brought." 

"  I  have  it  in  my  carriage,"  said  Frederick,  in  his 
melodious  voice. 

He  had  brought  his  own  wine  !  !  ! 

We  tried  not  to  laugh. 

This,  then,  was  the  reason  of  his  refusal  to  sleep  at 
Monceaux.  He  did  not  care  to  display  his  luxurious 
habits,  and  preferred  to  bring  his  two  bottles  of  Bor- 
deaux, every  day,  and  rely  upon  bribing  a  servant  to 
make  the  substitution  without  attracting  attention. 

The  bottles  were  brought  in. 

"  I  have  some  soda-water  too,"  said  Frederick, 
pointing  to  his  syphon. 

We  observed  that  the  syphon  had  not  changed 
its  level,  when  the  two  bottles  were  emptied. 


FREDERICK  LEMAJTRE.  22/ 

Order  was  once  more  restored. 

The  cause  of  melancholy  removed,  Frederick  be- 
came genial  though  still  a  little  stiff.  The  political 
man  subdued  him.  Had  Lamartine  only  written  the 
"  Meditations,"  Frederick  would  have  "tutoyed  " 
him  at  the  first  interview. 

Lamartine  was  careful  to  confine  his  conversation 
to  the  theatre.  Frederick  talked  thoughtfully  and 
sensibly  of  his  profession,  and  related  a  few  anecdotes 
with  a  good  deal  of  delicacy.  The  ladies  did  not  find 
him  the  Frederick  they  dreamed  of. 

When  we  were  leaving  the  table,  Lamartine  said 
to  me, 

"  If  I  had  known  that  it  was  to  be  so  serious,  I 
would  have  invited  the  clergy." 

After  the  cigars,  a  conspiracy  of  the  nieces  was 
declared. 

They  wanted  a  scene  from  Robert  Macaire. 

"  I  have  put  on  my  most  beautiful  dress  for  it," 
said  Mme.  de  P.,  "  You  cannot  refuse  us." 

Lamartine  had  the  good  taste  not  to  urge. 

Frederick  was  inflexible.  He  had  not  come  to 
appear  in  comedy.  He  was  charged  with  the  respon- 
sibility of  Lamartine's  debut  at  Porte-Saint-Martin, 
and  had  come  to  give  advice,  and  to  study  his  parts. 
He  could  not  pose  as  a  harlequin.  However,  he 
compensated  for  his  refusal  by  relating  more  anec- 
dotes, in  which,  in  spite  of  himself,  the  marvellous 


228  LA  MAR  TINE  A  ND  HIS  FXIEND  S. 

artist  appeared  in  every  gesture  and  intonation.  We 
passed  the  evening  as  if  at  the  theatre,  and  Mme. 
de  P.,  did  not  regret  having  put  on  her  fine  dress. 

Lamartine  gave  us  his  manuscript,  displaying  as 
it  did,  on  the  large  leaves  of  vellum,  his  beautiful 
penmanship. 

"  Cut  it,  add  to  it,  and  make  it  over,"  said  he 
to  us. 

Boussin  and  I  were  a  little  overpowered  at  this 
confidence.  It  was  imperative,  and  we  were  doing 
him  a  favor.  Lamartine  was  one,  who  could  do 
everything  but  correct  his  own  work. 

I  took  the  first  three  acts,  and  Boussin,  the  last 
two.  The  next  morning,  Lamartine  came  to  us  with 
a  very  serious  face.  He  read  the  famous  suspected 
act. 

"  What  do  you  say  of  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It  is  venturesome,  and  dangerous."     I  said. 

The  poet  had  had  one  of  his  most  audacious  in- 
spirations, such  as  in  "  La  Chute  d'un  Ange." 

There  were  many  beauties  in  it,  though  it  was 
very  evident  where  the  scene  was  laid. 

We  resolved  not  to  touch  this  formidable  act,  and 
so  our  work  was  accomplished,  in  a  very  few  morn- 
ings. We  finished,  here  and  there,  an  incomplete 
verse,  and  added  a  few  insignificant  scenes,  simply  to 
give  clearness,  and  precision.  Boussin  had  to  his 
account,  thirty  new  lines,  and  I,  sixty.  They  were 


FREDERICK  LEMAITRE'S  SCENE. 


229 


lost  in  the  ocean  of  beautiful,  and  impassioned  images. 
From  beginning  to  end,  it  was  a  cry  of  liberty  from 
the  black  race. 

Lamartine  declared  that  he  was  at  the  end  of  his 
inventive  resource,  and  having  explained  the  diffi- 
culty, he  asked  his  three  guests  to  give  a  little  scene 
for  the  unhappy  act.  Michel  Levy,  and  Mires,  with 
good  taste,  acknowledged  their  incompetency,  and 
Frederick  accepted  the  task.  After  three  days  of 
concentration,  he  announced  that  he  was  satisfied  with 
what  he  had  done. 

The  tribunal  met  again  in  Lamartine's  cabinet, 
Michel  Levy,  and  Mires  taking  part.  They  repre- 
sented the  bank,  and  wanted  to  be  sure  that  the  cor- 
rections had  not  compromised  their  thirty  thousand 
francs. 

Frederick  draped  himself  in  a  large  cloak,  and 
read  to  us, — a  lifeless,  spiritless  nothing. 

The  wonderful  actor  was  a  poet,  only  before  the 
footlights.  The  scene  would  have  been  rejected  as 
too  soporific,  even  by  M.  Bouilly, 

The  silence  of  the  tomb  followed  the  recitation, 
Lamart.ine  was  in  a  tempest  of  rage,  internally,  and 
without  delay,  put  himself  boldly  to  work.  Eight 
days  later,  the  manuscript  was  complete,  and  we  all 
separated. 

The  most  modest,  and  the  most  interesting  per- 
son of  this  group  of  counsellors,  was  Charles  Lemai- 


230 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


tre,  who  betrayed  his' future  vocation,  by  his  obser- 
vations as  an  intelligent  listener.  His  father's  excel- 
lent nature  and  persevering  industry  were  spoiled  by 
an  exaggeration  of  manner,  but  as  a  tragedian,  he 
was  incomparable. 

The  preparations  at  Porte-Saint-Martin,  dragged 
along  till  the  following  spring.  Lamartine,  whom 
the  Assembly  was  absorbing  for  the  last  time,  charged 
Paul  Saint-Victor  and  me  with  the  direction  of  the 
rehearsals.  We  were  thrown  into  a  theatrical  world 
upon  which  Saint-Victor  was  afterward  to  shed  such 
warm  light  by  his  criticisms,  which  were  a  course  of 
history,  poetry,  and  eloquence.  At  that  time,  how- 
ever, he  was  inexperienced,  and  in  the  darkness  and 
chill  of  that  great  hall,  with  only  the  uncertain,  melan- 
choly light  of  the  half-hidden  stage  lamps,  we  sat  in  our 
stalls,  and  had  not  authority  enough  to  control  anyone. 

Frederick  supplied  our  deficiencies.  He  was  an 
admirable  manager  and  director. 

Mile.  Clarisse  Miroy  aided  Lia  F61ix,  Rachel's 
sister,  who  was  a  young  debutante  of  sixteen. 

When  the  responses  were  imperfectly  given,  Fred- 
erick was  magnificent  in  his  anger,  and  tragic,  in  his 
apostrophes.  His  good  nature  soon  returned,  and 
his  reprimands  were  visibly  softened,  He  recited  his 
own  role  in  a  low  tone.  Sometimes,  he  studied  an 
effect,  and  he  would  startle  us,  as  a  lion  that  is  trying 
his  roars.  Lamartine  only  came  to  the  last  rehearsals. 


FIRST  NIGHT  OF  THE  DRAMA.  23! 

Desplace  was  there,  one  evening,  with  Mme.  de 
Lamartine. 

The  poet,  coming  home  late  one  night,  said, 

"  I  have  just  come  from  Porte-Saint-Martin,  and 
I  am  exhausted  and  bored.  There  is  not  the  least 
interest  in  the  five  acts.  It  will  be  a  magnificent 
failure." 

He  changed  his  mind,  the  night  before  the  repre- 
sentation. Frederick  had  been  superb  in  the  grand 
monologue  of  Toussaint.  The  cries  of  a  whole  en- 
slaved race  were  in  the  agonies  of  his  voice.  The 
other  actors  were  excellent,  Michel  Levy  wept. 

Lamartine  went  into  the  green  room,  to  congratu- 
late the  actors.  Clarisse  Miroy  came  to  meet  him. 

"  Do  not  refuse  my  reward,"  she  exclaimed,  "  and 
let  me  say,  that  my  lips  have  touched  the  brow  of  a 
god."  and  she  kissed  Lamartine. 

The  signal  was  given.     Lamartine  also  kissed  Lia. 

We  brought  in  our  claims  of  associates,  and  made 
the  tour  of  those  charming  faces. 

The  representation  of  this  drama  was  the  first 
literary  festival  since  1848.  The  Republican  party 
had  felt  itself  vanquished  by  the  Reaction,  but  this 
night  of  1850,  it  gathered  "  en  masse  "  at  Porte-Saint- 
Martin.  The  enthusiasts  in  art  and  poetry,  who  still 
held  to  Lamartine,  came  in  throngs. 

Some  of  the  scenes  were  successful  beyond  ex- 
pectation. The  great  Homeric  lines  stood  out  in 


232 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


bold  relief,  and  were  applauded  vociferously.  There 
seemed  to  escape  from  them,  a  current  of  electricity, 
awakening  the  purest  depths  of  the  soul.  The  beau- 
ties alone  passed  through  the  net  work  of  the  drama. 

Lamartine  was  greeted  as  the  great  Emancipator. 
We  were  certain  from  the  first  act,  that  the  success 
would  be  political.  Lamartine  was  too  lyrical  for  a 
theatre.  His  stanzas  required  a  temple. 

The  audience  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  poet  behind 
the  grating  of  the  box,  and  after  the  curtain  had 
fallen,  cries  of  "  Vive  Lamartine  "  and  Vive  la  Re- 
publique,"  continued  for  half  an  hour,  without  ces- 
sation. 

The  President's  guard  crowded  into  the  corridors, 
thinking  that  a  new  Provisionary  Government  was 
about  to  be  proclaimed.  At  two  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, the  Boulevards  still  resounded  with  these  sedi- 
tionary  cries.  Lamartine  did  himself  too  much  justice 
in  his  preface.  "  The  drama  has  been  forgotten.  It 
is  the  great  comedian,  who  has  been  applauded.  He 
has  surpassed  himself,  and  I  have  been  saved  a  fall, 
that  I  merited  and  accepted,  in  advance.  All  is  well." 

What  Lamartine  failed  to  say  was,  that  the  drama 
had  thirty  representations,  and  fully  indemnified 
Michel  Levy  and  Mires. 

The  day  after  the  first  representation,  I  went  to 
congratulate  Frederick.  There  was  something  that 
I  could  not  comprehend  in  his  rendition,  and  I  said 


FREDiVRICK  LEMAITRE.  233 

to  him,  "  In  the  fifth  act,  when  you  are  saying,  that 
the  tiger  has  devoured  the  bodies  of  the  white  and 
the  black  man.  Why  do  you  rest  so  long  between 
the  two  lines ; 

"  Et  rougeant  leurs  deux  corps  de  la  tete  aux  orteils, 
En  leur  otant  la  peau  les  avait  faits  pareils." 

Frederick  reddened  and  replied,  "  I  will  tell  you, 
and  it  will  be  a  good  thing  for  comedians  to  know, 
and  a  warning  against  forming  the  compromising 
habit  that  I  have.  Between  the  fourth  and  fifth 
acts,  I  drank  a  bottle  of  Bordeaux,  in  order  to  sustain 
the  weight  of  a  play  that  was  going  to  fail.  I  was 
actually  asleep  between  those  two  lines.  I  even 
dreamed.  I  never  experienced  such  horror,  as  in 
finding  myself  before  the  public  when  I  awoke." 


XVII. 

Saint-Point. 

~TTT~HILE  Boussin  and  I  were  working  upon  the 
VV  corrections,  we  had  seen  coming  into  the 
chateau,  a  tall  young  man,  whose  long  light  hair  fell 
over  his  shoulders,  like  the  masters  of  the  sixteenth 
century. 

"That  is  another  new  secretary.  You  shall 
know  him." 

"  What  is  his  name  ?  " 

"  Charles  Alexandre." 

I  thought  for  a  moment. 

"  I  know  him  already.  I  have  read  in  the  Brittany 
newspapers  some  very  flattering  sketches  of  myself, 
signed  by  him." 

"  He  has  written  them  because  you  belong  to  my 
circle.  I  am  his  Brahma  and  his  Bible.  There  was 
no  bond  between  us,  still  he  has  come  two  hundred 
leagues,  simply  for  the  pleasure  of  being  here.  He 
is  rich,  and  gives  himself  to  me  as  freely  as  the  ocean 
gives  its  waves  to  the  Brittany  shore.  So,  I  insist 
that  our  shore  shall  be  hospitable  to  him." 

The  country  has  responded  faithfully  to  Lamar- 
tine's  request.  It  has  given  a  charming  wife  to 


CHARLES  A  LEX  ANDRE.  235 

Charles  Alexandra,  and  sent  him  to  the  Assembly,  as 
a  representative  of  the  people  of  Bordeaux. 

Charles  Alexandre  soon  took  a  prominent  place  in 
the  household,  and  also  in  my  affection.  Mme.  de 
Lamartine  recognized  from  the  first,  the  poetic  nature 
and  nobility  of  the  Breton.  He  gained  all  hearts  by 
his  frankness.  At  first  he  was  a  little  abrupt,  for  he 
never  disguised  a  disapprobation.  Profoundly  spir- 
itualistic, he  knew  how  to  make  Mme.  de  Lamartine 
understand  that  the  Catholic  annotations,  added  by 
her  trembling  hand,  spoiled  the  unity  of  Lamartine's 
ideas.  She  was  a  woman  of  such  intelligence  and 
good  sense,  that  she  thanked  him  for  opposing  her, 
and  she  found  in  him  an  earnest  cooperator  in  her 
work.  She  was  not  even  alarmed  by  those  beautiful 
verses,  inspired  by  free  thought,  written  on  the  death 
of  Lamannais.  She  felt  that  Alexandre  had  come 
into  a  crumbling  house  only  to  keep  away  the  lizards, 
and  prevent  a  stain  upon  its  glory.  He  did  not  come 
to  Lamartine  in  his  power,  but  waited  till  the  twilight 
of  life  was  thickening,  and  brought  to  him  the  light 
of  a  strong  republican  faith,  and  a  passionate  devotion. 
However  adverse  his  ideas  were  to  hers,  he  continued 
to  be  the  intimate  friend  of  Mme.  de  Lamartine's 
declining  years.  There  are  no  affections  more  last- 
ing than  those  established  by  contradictions. 

Mme.  de  Lamartine  showed  wonderful  elasticity, 
and  vigilance  to  the  end  of  her  days.  She  entered 


236  LAM  A  R  TINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

democracy  heart  and  soul,  and  never  gave  a  counsel 
against  Liberty.  She  had  sacrificed  her  fortune  to 
the  political  adventures  of  a  great  life,  and  rejoiced 
in  the  prospect  of  assuring  a  peace  after  her  death,  for 
she  could  not  transfer  anything.  She  was  several 
years  older  than  her  husband,  and  felt  that  he  would 
survive  her. 

She  preserved  her  youthful  habits  not  from  co- 
quetry of  old  age,  but  to  keep  sadness  from  her  hus- 
band's eyes.  Though  a  constant  invalid  after  her 
voyages  and  griefs,  she  rose  every  morning  at  six 
o'clock,  and  gave  her  early  hours  to  painting,  and  cor- 
recting proofs.  She  was  always  ready  for  the  excur 
sions,  and  kept  up  her  exercise  of  horseback  riding. 
At  seventy  years  of  age,  she  had  black  hair,  and  a 
slight  and  elegant  figure.  She  was  scrupulous  in  re- 
gard to  her  own  toilette  for  dinner,  but  no  longer  ex- 
acted dress  coats  for  the  gentlemen.  Too  many  hon- 
est jackets  had  been  seated  at  her  table,  for  her  to  re- 
sent a  little  negligence.  She  read  everything,  so  as 
to  keep  Lamartine  posted  in  all  literary  matters.  She 
had  the  simplicity  of  good  sense,  which  was  apparent 
in  the  discussion  of  all  questions  not  obscured  by  a  re- 
ligious fanaticism,  but  this  was  gradually  diminishing. 
By  her  kind  indulgence,  she  attracted  even  those  whom 
her  title  of  foreigner  prejudiced  against  her.  I  do  not 
believe  that  God  has  made  many  souls  so  steadfast. 

She  also  had  nieces,  and  cousins  as  charming,  and 


MME.  DE  LAMART1NES  NIECES. 


237 


more  foreign,  than  Lamartme's.  They  came  from 
England  and  India,  bringing  with  them  the  graces 
and  perfumes  of  other  countries.  They  came  usually 
in  the  latter  part  of  the  Autumn,  brightening  the 
woods  and  vines,  with  their  beautiful  faces.  They 
brought  their  own  dreams  to  Saint-Point  and  Mon- 
ceaux  and  left  others  behind. 

Even  if  Monceaux  had  not  had  the  attraction  of 
M.  and  Mme.  de  Lamartine,  it  would  have  been  en- 
chanting by  these  visits,  which  always  inspired  a  verse 
from  Lamartine.  Each  new  comer  carried  away  a 
bouquet  of  rhymes. 

I  remember  the  mother  of  one,  who  united  the 
Anglo-Indian  type.  She  had  founded  a  religious 
faith  half  Christian  and  half  Indian.  During  twenty 
years  of  catechizing  she  had  only  made  one  convert. 
Notwithstanding  this  apparent  discouragement,  she 
placed  herself  as  a  priestess  and  tried  to  convert  us. 
Her  daughter  did  not  share  her  mother's  belief,  or 
perhaps  she  would  have  succeeded  better.  I  am 
quite  sure  that  Mme.  X.,  came  with  the  intention  of 
converting  Lamartine.  She  succeded  only  in  making 
a  friend.  I  do  not  know  whether  she  is  still  living  or 
whether  at  last,  she  has  reached  Eternal  Truth,  the 
secret  of  which  she  possessed. 

Lamartine  loved  this  searcher  of  souls,  who  en- 
deavored to  draw  others  only  by  gentleness  and 
charity.  He  called  her  a  "  fanatic  lamb." 


238 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


Among  the  other  autumnal  guests  at  Monceaux 
was  Charles  Labor.  A  marriage  of  love  had  stranded 
this  son  of  the  Mediterranean  at  Cormatin.  He  is 
an  artist,  and  gives  to  the  admiring  world  a  fresh  pic- 
ture at  every  exposition.  His  landscapes  are  as 
tender  and  expressive  as  his  heart.  Like  Alexandre, 
he  was  a  friend  of  later  years. 

It  was  impossible  for  Lamartine  to  give  himself 
to  a  stranger.  Before  one  had  seen  his  face,  the  heart 
had  received  his  verses.  No  one  read  his  poem>,  but 
to  know  him,  and  Labor  was  one  of  those  who  knew 
him  the  best.  He  had  painted  a  "  Lake,"  and  a 
"Valley"  from  the  "  Meditations."  Great  poets  re- 
cruit scholars  for  music  and  painting.  Lamartine 
has  decided  many  events  by  the  inspiration  of  his 
verse. 

Labor  had  loved  his  wife  from  reading  Graziella, 
and  one  of  the  chief  considerations  in  his  marriage, 
was  to  live  near  Lamartine. 

I  did  not  impose  him  upon  Lamartine  during  the 
first  visit,longer  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  At  the  sec- 
ond interview,  Lamartine  invited  him  to  come  again, 
and  could  not  do  without  him  afterwards.  Lamar- 
tine was  as  sensitive  to  the  communion  of  souls,  as 
the  witch-hazel  is  to  the  spring.  Labor  has  not  lived 
here  for  the  last  fifteen  years.  He  has  transported 
with  him  the  worship  of  Lamartine.  He  has  made 
Republicans  and  Spiritualists  in  a  south,  teeming 


DUMAS  FILS. 


239 


with  Royalists  and  Materialists.  His  expressive  en- 
thusiasm is  contagious. 

A  part  of  himself  is  buried  at  Saint-Point;— Labor 
has  had  many  conversations  with  Lamartine  and  his 
memory  will  control  my  souvenirs.  I  write,  hoping 
to  inspire  others.  We  must  make  Lamartine  live 
again.  He  will  have  his  Evangelists. 

A  collection  of  his  letters  is  announced.  I  have 
supplied  some  for  the  publication.  They  are  more 
particularly  notes,  and  though  wonderful,  do  not  ex- 
press all.  A  private  and  sustained  correspondence, 
was  impossible  to  one  who  wrote  to  the  whole  world 
through  his  books.  It  is  the  historic  duty  of  his 
friends,  to  tell  all  that  they  know  of  him. 

Let  us  seek  the  other  friends  of  these  last  years. 
Dumas  fils,  often  came,  though  not  until  the  declining 
days  of  that  noble  life.  His  bright  mind  re-illumined 
the  rays  of  a  clouding  sky.  One  could  scarcely  com- 
prehend an  intimacy  between  the  author  of  "  La 
Dame  aux  Carnelias,"  and  "  Le  Demi-Monde,"  and 
the  singer  of  Elvira,  as  he  has  been  called,  if  one  did 
not  remember  that  Dumas  fils  is  one  of  the  best 
models  of  the  French  tongue.  Conscious  of  belong- 
ing to  that  class  which  refines  and  concentrates  a 
language,  he  desired  to  approach  one  who  had  im- 
mortalized it.  He  did  not  come  to  Monceaux  to 
seek  types  and  horizons  for  a  scene  or  romance,  about 
which  it  might  be  said  that  he  opened  the  door  of 


240 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


Beaumarchais  and  Balzac,  if  he  were  not  a  whole  school 
in  himself.  He  came  because  he  had  always  admired 
Lamartine,  and  whom  he  admired,  he  loved. 

One  time,  when  he  was  at  Monceaux,  there  was  an 
insatiable  curiosity  in  the  neighborhood,  to  see  him. 
Conversations  were  so  manoeuvred,  that  Lamartine 
was  forced  to  send  out  invitations  for  a  grand  dinner. 

Dumas  fils  was  to  be  exhibited. 

It  was  an  insolence  to  think  of  coming  to  Mon- 
ceaux to  see  any  other  than  Lamartine,  and  Dumas 
understood  this.  It  was  like  a  first  exhibition,  where 
the  boxes  are  free,  and  according  to  the  chronicles  of 
all  who  were  present,  Dumas  showed  only  a  blonde 
moustache  over  a  silent  or  satirical  mouth.  He  said 
nothing  during  the  evening,  yet  on  any  occasion,  he 
could  send  out  his  words  with  as  brilliant  effect,  as 
Ruggieri  sends  off  his  sky-rockets.  He  had  the 
courage"  to  appear  insignificant,  and  saved  his  floods 
of  conversation  for  Lamartine  alone,  with  whom  he 
talked  in  a  low  tone  in  one  corner  of  the  room. 

The  neighbors  were  indignant  and  vowed  that 
they  would  never  buy  another  of  Dumas  pere's  books, 
nor  would  they  ever  go  to  the  "  Gymnase." 

Lamartine  came  to  my  room,  after  the  guests  had 
departed.     "  Dumas  never  showed  so  much  spirit." 
said  he,  "  He  has  taught  me  a  lesson,  and  has  com 
plimented  me,  at  the  same  time,  by  his  silence.     If 
ever  I  am  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs,  again,  I  shall 


NAD  A  UD. 


241 


send  him  to  London.  He  is  a  diplomate  of  talent." 
"  First  of  all,  nominate  him  to  the  Academy."  I  re- 
torted. "  After  his  father  dies.  I  hope  not  to  sur- 
vive a  man,  who  has  amused  me  so  much." 

Nadaud  always  made  Lamartine  very  happy. 
Every  year,  he  spent  a  month  with  Boussin,and  they 
were  always  on  the  road  towards  Lamartine's,  who 
delighted  in  the  sensibility  and  refinement  of  Na- 
daud's  frank  and,  affectionate  nature.  He  talked  just 
as  he  wrote,  always  in  tune.  One  could  see  by  the 
lightness  of  his  first  efforts,  that  he  had  been  a  friend 
of  Musset.  He  was  afterwards  associated  with  Lau- 
rent Pichat,  and  the  measures  of  his  rhymes  are  full 
and  complete,  when  he  suspects  that  Pichat  is  near 
enough  to  hear  them.  Nadaud  has  had  a  successful 
career  for  thirty  years,  in  which  time  he  has  never 
succeeded  in  making  an  enemy. 

Lamartine  sympathized  with  the  tone  of  melan- 
choly, tinging  even  the  most  joyous  refrains  of  this 
inexhaustible  song  writer.  He  applauded  in  these 
fancies,  the  trumpet-like  tones  of  honesty  and  reason, 
that  sound  through  the  couplets  of  Nadaud,  but  what 
attracted  him  the  most,  was  the  inimitable  artist  who 
was  revealed  whenever  there  was  a  piano.  Lamartine 
liked  those  who  diverted  him  from  his  cares.  If  he 
caused  tears  to  flow,  he  could  clap  his  hands  with  de- 
light, to  any  one  who  gave  him  a  ray  of  joy.  The 
"  Gendarmes  "  would  do  him  good  for  a  fortnight, 


242 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


and  he  never  was  weary  of  it.  Thus  Nadaud  found 
his  success  at  Monceaux,  as  everywhere  else.  He 
was  as  popular  as  joy,  and  good  as  happiness.  He 
must  be  gratified,  to  have  been  the  source  of  so 
much  pleasure  to  a  ship-wrecked  Hercules. 

One  day,  after  one  of  those  evenings,  when  Lam- 
artine  had  laughed  like  a  common  mortal  he  led  me 
into  his  study. 

'•  I  am  going  to  have  the  horses  saddled,"  said  he 
"and  we  will  go  into  the  woods  of  Cluny.  The  fog 
is  an  excellent  mantle  for  a  horseback  ride.  Before 
they  are  ready,  I  shall  have  time  to  read  you  the  first 
pages  of  Raphael." 

"  What  is  Raphael  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Raphael  is  myself.  The  book  will  also  be  called, 
"  Pages  de  la  Vingtieme  Annee."  It  will  be  the  begin- 
ning of  my  "  Memoires/'  I  work  at  it  at  my  leisure." 

He  had  never  spoken  to  me  of  this. 

The  book  was  ripening  in  the  shade  like  winter 
fruit  in  the  dark. 

The  study  at  Monceaux  had  not  the  arched  roof 
of  Saint-Point,  which  was  like  a  sanctuary  for  the 
winged  inspirations  that  came  before  the  setting  of 
the  stars.  It  looked  out  upon  a  sombre  square  of  old 
chestnuts,  the  only  garden  of  the  Chateau.  A  wooden 
staircase  led  to  the  court,  encumbered  with  casks  and 
fermenting  wine-tubs.  The  dogs  filled  up  the  room, 
and  tore  into  rags  with  their  long  claws  the  Persian 


RAPHAEL.  243 

covering  of  the  little  divan.  The  vintagers,  leaving 
their  sabots  outside  the  door,  as  the  faithful  leave 
their  slippers  at  the  entrance  of  the  Mosque,  were 
always  coming  and  going.  There  was  a  large  case, 
on  which  were  scattered  cigars  and  snuff.  "  The  snuff- 
box was  the  only  inconsistent  contrast  to  Lamartine's 
elegant  habits.  A  fire  of  vine-fagots  and  branches, 
burned  in  the  chimney.  A  large  table  of  varnished 
wood  was  heaped  up  with  enormous  pages  of  manu- 
script. Whole  quires  of  paper  emerged,  here  and 
there,  from  the  ocean  of  newspapers  and  pamphlets. 
In  all  this  chaos,  there  was  order  only  to  Lamartine. 

He  was  not  dressed  for  his  ride.  He  had  on  his 
old  ink-stained  jacket.  Unrolling  the  manuscript, 
he  said,  "  Do  not  be  afraid,  we  will  only  read  ten 
pages.  I  only  want  to  get  an  impression  of  the  be- 
ginning, and  we  must  not  keep  the  horses  waiting. 
Light  a  cigar.  My  dreams  will  pass  away  in  smoke." 

Then  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  and  stretching  out 
his  feet  to  the  mantel-piece,  he  commenced. 

I  will  not  repeat  "  Raphael,"  for  almost  every  one 
knows  it.  Those  who  do  not,  I  will  ask  if  they  have 
ever  accidently  found  in  a  book  a  few  flowers,  picked 
by  a  river's  bank  during  some  voyage  of  long,  ago? 
Did  not  the  sight  of  them  bring  back  the  whole 
scene,  the  sun,  the  landscape,  even  the  wind  that 
bent  them  ?  Lamartine  had  seemed  to  put  into  these 
pages  all  the  flowers  of  his  youth,  culled  on  the  shores 


244 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


of  the  passions  which  had  traversed  his  life.  I  felt 
no  longer  in  the  presence  of  an  old  man,  bowed  by 
the  storms  of  life.  I  saw  the  young  man  Raphael 
drinking  in  ecstasy  and  love  from  every  source.  I 
saw  Graziella  and  Elvira,  winding  their  brown  tresses 
around  his  white  brow. 

The  tenth  page  had  been  finished  long  ago,  when 
the  servant  rapped  at  the  door  saying, 

"  The  horses  are  impatient.  We  cannot  hold 
Saphyr  any  longer." 

"  Walk  them  about,"  replied  Lamartine,  without 
consulting  me. 

He  shared  my  intoxication. 

The  reading  was  resumed,  and  did  not  cease  till 
lamp-light.  He  recommenced  the  next  morning,  and 
read  to  the  last  line.  I  was  suspicious  of  the  entire 
truth  of  his  confidence.  I  could  not  feel  that  love 
had  remained  so  pure,  with  such  charming  mistresses. 
I  set  a  trap. 

"  The  purity  of  your  book  will  make  it  immortal. 
You  have  known  only  the  marriage  of  souls.  All 
these  beautiful  women  pass  before  your  eyes  like  so 
many  visions.  You  have  not  degraded  them  by 
giving  them  senses." 

I  shall  never  forget  his  expression.  This  kind  of 
praise  did  not  suit  him.  The  man  did  not  claim  to 
be  more  than  human. 

"  I  am  not  sure  of  that,"  said  he,  "  perhaps,  I  have 


RAPHAEL.  245 

shown  too  much  respect  for  the  modesty  of  my 
readers.  I  shall  not  succeed  in  founding  a  Platonic 
school,  and  I  don't  intend  to.  It  is  a  horribly  false 
system.  The  sexes  make  a  part  of  the  mysteries  of 
creation.  Faublas'  character  is  truer  than  Raphael's. 
But  Raphael  was  a  pupil  of  the  Jesuits,  of  Belley, 
who  taught  him  their  reticence.  At  all  events,  I 
hope  that  the  public  will  divine  the  truth,  and  that 
these  partially-concealed  allusions,  will  not  dishonor 
me.  I  have  purified  the  flames  through  which  we 
have  passed,  but  they  have  burned  us  to  the  marrow 
I  have  not  embraced  an  empty  vision,  as  the  saints 
of  the  Thebaide  did.  Man  has  his  nervous,  as  well 
as  his  physical  system.  I  am  not  like  Grandisson.  I 
accept  the  dualism.  The  senses  have  their  raptures, 
and  this  is  a  part  of  my  poesy.  I  beg  of  you,  rectify 
my  half-tints.  However,  I  will  do  it  myself  in  my 
"  Memoires."  I  never  have  taken  the  vow  of  chastity. 
I  have  loved  all  whom  I  have  adored."  He  was 
noble  and  astonishing  in  his  justification.  He  de- 
fended himself  from  virtue.  He  walked  up  and  down 
the  cabinet,  almost  irritated  at  my  comments.  I  had 
an  object  in  continuing  them.  He  had  had  the 
weakness  to  spoil  the  last  line  of  his  inimitable  "  Lac." 

Instead  of  "Tout    disc:  ils   ont  aime","    he  had 
written  for  a  family  edition, 

"  Tout  disc  :  ils  ont  passe,"  which  inspired  a  "  bon- 
mot  "  from  Mme.  de  Girardin,  who  proposed  : 


246  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

"  Tout  disc  :  ils  ont  fume  !  "  I  made  him  almost 
ashamed  of  his  concession,  and  begged  him  to  take 
the  first  text. 

"  Why  so?"  said  he,  "  Mme.  de  Lamartine  has 
reviewed  the  proofs,  and  says  that  I  shall  sell  fifty 
more  copies  in  England.  My  debts  have  made  me 
do  many  cowardly  things.  Now,  let  us  mount.  The 
poor  horses  have  been  tired  out  these  two  hours  !  " 

He  had  forgotten  that  he  had  commenced  the 
reading  the  day  before.  Time  had  passed  with  the 
same  rapidity  as  in  his  youth,  in  which  he  had  plunged 
anew. 

"  Do  not  speak  of  our  discussion  during  my  life- 
time," said  he.  "  I  must  remain  angelic  for  the  sake 
of  my  nieces.  Alas!  a  poor  seraph  in  a  grey-beard," 
said  he,  looking  into  the  mirror. 

In  the  evening,  exhausted  by  his  long  reading, 
he  slept  by  the  fireside. 

I  shall  always  remember  those  radiant  days.  They 
had  done  him  as  much  good  as  they  did  me.  He 
had  taken  his  staff  again,  and  walked  with  the  firm 
step  of  twenty.  Young  girls  with  their  black  eyes 
had  again  thrown  their  glamors  over  him.  Memory 
had  restored  to  him  a  departed  world. 

He  felt  that  these  enchantments  were  vibrating 
in  my  heart,  and  when  he  took  his  candle  to  go  to 
bed,  he  said  to  me  confidingly.  "  Ah  !  Lacretelle, 
we  have  said  beautiful  things  to  day!  " 


XVIII. 

1849  t°  l85r- 

"FpROM  184910  1 85 1,  were  sad  years  at  Monceaux^ 
JJ  as  they  were  all  over  France.  Ingratitude  had 
paid  its  debt  to  Lamartine.  He  was  not  re-elected 
in  his  department.  A  chance  nomination  sent  him 
to  the  Legislature.  He  no  longer  occupied  his  high 
position.  He  believed,  too  soon,  that  his  political 
role  was  finished,  and  he  desired  to  bury  himself  with , 
the  Republic.  The  Republic  was  undermined,  as  it 
is  to-day,  by  monarchic  parties  in  parliament,  which 
were  playing  the  game  of  Bonaparte.  The  extreme 
left  was  less  tranquil  than  now.  And  between  these 
two  mountains  of  intrigue,  and  ambition,  Lamartine 
could  not  maintain  an  equilibrium.  He  became  the 
scape-goat  upon  which  the  Israelitish  Royalists  piled 
all  their  hatreds,  and  he  was  deeply  sensible  of  the 
universal  ill-will.  He  thought  that  his  voice  would  be 
lost  in  their  clamors,  so  little  by  little,  he  withdrew. 
This  was  his  fatal  step,  for  he  was  still  in  full  posses- 
sion of  his  genius.  It  was  not  for  the  solitude  and 
privacy  of  his  home,  that  he  prepared  those  wonder- 
ful speeches,  which  the  questions  raised  by  events, 
inspired  in  him. 


248  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

How  many  words  flowed  over  the  trees  at  Saint- 
Point  or  through  the  gallery  of  Monceaux  and  were 
lost,  that  would  have  called  the  people  to  action,  and 
the  living,  self-contained,  methodized  Republic,  such 
as  was  inspired  in  the  breast  of  that  orator,  would  not 
have  been  stifled  in  an  ill-omened  night,  but  would 
have  been  proclaimed  in  the  streets  of  Paris  even  after 
the  hideous  crime  of  December  second. 

He  begged  and  implored,  in  vain,  during  those 
unhappy  times.  Lamartine  was  heart  sick  from  dis- 
couragement, and  respected  himself  too  much  to 
enter  into  a  contest.  He  thought  that  his  retirement 
was  the  means  for  making  his  work  endure,  and  re- 
served himself  for  a  new  clawn.  He  dreamed  that 
the  nation,  in  looking  for  its  leader,  would  see  him 
in  his  voluntary  exile.  He  waited  for  a  return  of 
justice,  which  never  comes.  He  allowed  himself  to 
be  calumniated,  and  his  silence  was  taken  for  anger. 

Nevertheless  the  hero  in  him  protested.  He  rose 
every  morning,  bathed  in  sweats  of  indignation,  and 
resplendent  in  mind,  and  it  was  then,  that  he  wrote 
those  marvellous  articles  for  the  "  Conseilleur  du 
Peuple,"  and  that  grand  book,  almost  forgotten  now, 
"  Le  Passe,  le  Present,  et  1'Avenir  de  la  Republique." 
The  whole  prophet  was  there.  The  book  did  not 
contain  printed  pages  alone,  there  were  illuminations. 

The  "  Conseilleur  du  Peuple  "  gave  Lamartine  an 
illusion  of  a  new  fortune,  but  the  fortune  as  I  have 


1849   TO  1851.  249 

already  said,  went  less  to  him,  than  to  his  editors, 
Mires  and  Millaud.  The  publication  rendered  him 
a  good  service,  indirectly.  It  kept  him  from  dying 
of  weariness,  and  his  writings  supplied  the  excite- 
ment of  the  tribune. 

I  do  not  know  why  he  substituted  the  "  Civiliza- 
teur,"  for  the  "  Conseilleur."  It  was,  doubtless,  from 
the  need  of  lessening  his  interest  in  the  present,  by 
means  of  history.  He  wrote  a  few  biographies.  I 
know  nothing  better  than  his  "Caesar,"  his  innu- 
merable "  Ciceros,"  in  whose  life  he  traced  his  own 
analogy,  and  also  his  "  Washington,"  whom  he  re- 
sembled in  almost  every  point  except  in  the  duration 
of  his  Republic. 

The  "  Civilizateur,"  lived  some  years,  and  was 
forgotten  for  the  personal  speculation  of  the  "  Cours 
de  Litterature,"  which  also  helped  him  not  to  die. 

Lamartine  spent  very  little  time  at  Paris  during 
these  years.  Age  had  not  yet  touched  him  heavily, 
but  his  contemporaries  were  disappearing,  one  after 
another.  He  had  no  longer  around  him  the  same 
throng  of  admirers. 

Political  malice  was  carried  so  far,  as  to  deny  his 
value  and  reputation  as  a  poet.  The  aristocracy 
could  not  pardon  a  nobleman,  in  whom  the  Republic 
was  symbolized.  They  looked  upon  him  as  a  deser- 
ter, for  having  passed  over  to  the  side  of  fraternity 
and  wisdom.  They  contested  his  native  refinement, 


250 


LAM -AR  TINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


because  he  mingled  with  the  people.  The  sacristans 
excommunicated  him,  because  he  had  fought  for  the 
separation  of  the  Church  and  State. 

Veuillot  forgot  that  he  had  sat  for  two  months  at 
the  table  at  Monceaux,  and  sent  almost  as  many  in- 
sults to  Lamartine,  as  he  did  to  Hugo.  The  fortunes 
saved  by  Lamartine,  in  the  Revolution  of  February, 
refused  the  contribution  of  a  penny  towards  his  sub- 
scription, and  consoled  their  avarice,  by  reading  the 
epigrams  of  the  "  Figaro." 

These  moral  wounds  had  a  physical  counter-irri- 
tant. Lamartine  was  often  sick  in  those  days.  He 
had  always  been  subject  to  articular  rheumatism,  and 
in  his  youth,  had  visited  all  the  baths  of  France  and 
Savoy,  and  now  that  the  attacks  became  more  fre- 
quent, he  was  often  confined  to  his  bed  for  weeks. 

I  must  confess,  that  while  his  sufferings  grieved 
us,  these  fits  of  sickness  gave  us  occasional  days  of 
great  rejoicing.  A  mussulman  could  not  have  ac- 
cepted pain  with  more  docility.  He  never  rebelled 
except  by  soldierly  expressions,  and  became  at  once, 
gentle,  and  courteous.  We  thoroughly  enjoyed  him 
during  these  imposed  retreats.  He  would  often  ask 
us  to  read  to  him,  and  we  knew  what  this  meant.  A 
line  awakened  a  remembrance ;  an  opinion  led  to  a 
discussion.  He  talked  inexhaustibly,  gesticulating 
with  his  poor  swelled  hand.  He  was  patient  with 
the  dogs,  that  crouched  under  his  coverlid,  and  was 


1849   TO  1851.  251 

more  indulgent  to  others  in  proportion  to  his  own 
sufferings. 

When  the  swelling  in  his  hand  had  diminished, 
he  would  take  his  pen  again.  It  was  during  one  of 
these  intervals,  that  he  wrote  the  work  on  the  Re- 
public to  which  I  have  just  alluded.  He  had  just 
passed  through  one  of  these  attacks  at  the  end  of 
November,  1851.  I  was  there,  at  Monceaux,  with 
Charles  Alexandre.  Every  day  brought  us  dismal 
news.  That  violation  of  the  law,  that  bloody  cloud, 
the  Coup  d'Etat,  floated  in  the  air.  Would  it  come 
from  the  majority  of  the  assembly,  directed  by  Chan- 
garnier  ?  Would  it  end  in  the  incarceration  of  His 
Highness  the  President,  and  to  a  Restoration,  more 
or  less  odious  ?  Or,  would  it  be  declared  by  Bona- 
parte himself,  who  alone  of  all  France,  had  raised  his 
hand  to  heaven,  swearing  in  God's  name,  that  he 
would  defend  the  Republic  ? 

Lamartine  saw  that  it  could  only  come  from  the 
Palais  de  1'Elysee  and  from  his  sick  bed,  he  sent  to 
La  Guerroniere,editor-in-chief  of  his  newspaper,  the 
"  Bien  Public  "  of  Paris,  article  upon  article,  to  warn 
the  public  of  the  "  attentat,"  and  reveal  the  horror 
contained  therein.  None  of  these  articles  appeared. 
We  could  not  believe  that  there  was  any  complicity. 
La  Guerroniere's  first  impulse,  on  the  second  of  De- 
cember, was  of  indignation.  He  sent  the  resignation 
of  his  brother,  who  was  nominated  sub-prefect.  Leon 


252  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

Bruys  who  had  been  nominated  to  the  same  piace, 
by  his  friend  M.  de  Thorigny,  had  the  same  pricking 
of  conscience,  and  although  ruined,  accepted  nothing. 
The  "Attentat"  awoke  us  one  morning,  with  the 
cruelty  of  a  gaoler,  who  enters  the  prisoner's  cell,  and 
tell  him  that  the  scaffold  is  ready  and  he  is  to  be 
executed. 

The  condemned  were  the  Republic,  and  Lamar- 
tine  who  had  proclaimed  it.  His  rheumatism  dis- 
appeared. 

The  fever  of  indignation  cured  the  physical  fever. 
We  were  in  the  gallery  with  the  frightened  people 
who  had  come  from  Macon,  bringing  new  details  of 
the  murder.  The  Assembly  was  dissolved,  the  repre- 
sentatives imprisoned,  a  Plebiscitum  announced,  and 
the  electors  sent  to  the  polls  at  the  point  of  the 
bayonet. 

No  one  will  ever  see  such  an  explosion  as  that  of 
Lamartine's.  To  be  cheated  by  an  idiot !  To  live 
again  under  an  Emperor!  To  feel  that  the  work  of 
'89,  the  ardent  pulsation  of  all  the  thought  of  a  cen- 
tury, all  the  philosophy,  all  the  blood  of  martyrs,  had 
been  thrown  into  an  Imperial  gutter!  to  be  sent 
back  into  the  darkness  of  night,  after  having  thrown 
with  full  hands,  the  brightest  lights  upon  one's  coun- 
try and  history  ! 

"  This  man  is  beyond  the  pale  of  humanity,"  he 
exclaimed.  He  is  one  of  those  wild  beasts,  escaped 


i849   TO  1851.  253 

from  the  jungles,  like  Tiberius,  Nero  or  Caracalla. 
They  do  not  tell  us  yet  of  massacres,  but  I  tell  you, 
that  he  who  goes  through  the  boulevards  of  Paris, 
has  blood  to  his  waist,  and  women  and  children  have 
been  killed  by  thousands.  Our  race  is  cursed.  After 
seasons  of  peace,  the  descendants  of  Cain  bequeath 
their  crimes  in  the  dark.  Whatever  may  be  the  ap- 
pearance of  social  virtue,  there  is  always,  somewhere, 
a  woman  betrayed  by  a  Caesar !  Their  offspring  will 
reign  in  rottenness.  He  will  open  his  brothels,  and 
and  sacristans  will  send  their  incense  to  him.  You 
are  going  to  seethe  Dictatorship  of  a  beadle!  He 
will  declare  insensate  wars,  so  as  to  throw  flags  over 
the  bed  of  a  dead  Liberty.  And  he  will  live  long, 
and  have  many  faces,  and  he  will  lead  you  to  invasion  ! 
And  if  France  does  not  oppose  him  by  a  rampart  of 
Republicans,  he  will  end  in  being  an  Emperor  of 
demagogues !  Ah  !  poor  generations,  doomed  to 
simonies  and  servitude  !  " 

He  walked  up  and  down  the  gallery  striking  the 
furniture  in  his  impatience,  moving  even  inanimate 
things  with  the  wind  of  his  prophetic  words,  and 
stirring  our  trembling  souls. 

"The  country  will  rise  from  its  sick  bed  as  you 
have,"  we  said.  "  It  will  deal  out  justice  to  this 
would-be-savior,  before  he  has  had  time  to  gain  his 
crown." 

"  Do  not   believe   that !      Cowardice   is   the   in- 


254 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


separable  companion  of  ingratitude.  The  country 
has  shown  its  ingratitude  to  me.  It  is  ready  to  accept 
anything.  In  the  departments  where  the  name  of 
Bonaparte  still  intoxicates,  companies  of  Praetorians 
are  now  making  ready.  In  the  middle  classes,  ener- 
vated by  the  Orleanists,  there  are  Trymalcions,  ready 
to  open  their  banquet  halls.  Oh  !  this  miscreant  ! 
And  he  will  not  insult  me  by  not  proscribing  me, 
and  if  I  open  my  lips,  he  will  send  an  assassin." 

Lamartine  surpassed  himself  in  his  excitement. 
We  were  face  to  face  with  an  event  so  monstrous, 
that  nothing  after  it  seemed  impossible. 

"  None  of  us  will  leave  you,"  said  I  to  him.  "  You 
know  that  they  will  have  to  go  through  many  hearts, 
before  reaching  yours.  Our  place  is  here." 

"  Your  strict  duty,  the  duty  of  all  of  you,  is  to  go 
home,"  said  he  angrily.  "  An  insurrection  is  not  to  be 
thought  of  against  an  army  exhilarated  by  the  smoke 
of  Austerlitz.  However,  ridiculous  as  the  vote  must 
be,  you  are  still  the  Republic's  missionaries.  Go  !  " 

•  I  obeyed,  and  the  cry  of  my  conscience  was  an 
echo  of  that  heart-rending  appeal.  I  was  not  certain 
that  there  was  not  a  tragedy  in  preparation  for  Lam- 
artine, and  had  no  assurance  that  I  should  ever  see 
him  again..  I  could  not  tell  to  what  links  in  the 
chain  this  crime  of  December  would  attach.  The 
heads  of  Republicans  were  not  safe  upon  their  shoul- 
ders. France  was  shrouded  in  fatality.  I  felt  that 


1849   TO  1851.  255 

I  was  descending  a  valley  enclosed  by  volcanoes,  yet 
I  counted   little  upon  the  duration  of  their  eruption. 

Three  hours  later,  I  was  at  Cormatin. 

I  am  not  writing  my  autobiography,  but  I  cannot 
leave  in  the  shade,  one  of  the  thousand  events  mark- 
ing this  sad  period,  and  one  of  the  falsehoods  that 
unhappily  enveloped  my  modest  and  inconspicuous 
life.  All  that  I  loved  in  the  world,  were  at  Macon 
and  Cormatin.  At  Macon,  were  my  aged  parents  and 
my  brother.  At  Cormatin,  my  wife  and  only  child. 

About  six  o'clock  in  the  evening,  December  fourth, 
a  worthy  man  of  my  neighborhood  opened  my  door 
mysteriously,  saying,  "  I  have  just  come  from  a  fair. 
The  men  of  Saint-Gengoux  are  arming  and  will  march 
upon  Macon  to-morrow.  There  are  five  hundred  of 
them.  They  are  coming  here  to  get  you  to  lead 
them.  My  advice  is,  to  mount  your  horse  before 
midnight  and  conceal  yourself  in  the  woods  of  Bour- 
sier,  so  that  they  shall  not  find  you.  What  I  tell  you 
is  as  true  as  the  Gospel." 

.  I  pressed  his  hand.  I  knew  that  there  were  marry 
patriotic  men  watching  events,  in  the  courageous 
little  town  of  Saint-Gengoux-le-Royal. 

"  I  have  a  few  words  to  say  to  them,''  I  replied, 
"  and  it  is  not  my  habit  to  fly  from  a  danger  that  is 
behind  me.  Thank  you,  but  I  will  stay  and  sleep 
here  to-night." 

He  insisted. 


256  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

11  Your  life  is  in  danger.    Think  of  Master  Gaston." 

Gaston  was  the  son  I  had,  and  now  have  no  more. 
The  good  man  was  loth  to  leave  me.  I  learned, 
afterwards,  that  he  stayed  all  night  at  the  gateway, 
listening. 

In  spite  of  what  I  said,  I  did  not  sleep. 

Where  was  the  RigJit  ? 

Incontestably  with  those,  who  rose  to  defend  the 
Constitution.  But  Lamartine's  words  were  always 
before  me.  He  did  not  approve  of  taking  arms. 
That  would  only  be  a  lost  point  to  France,  ready 
everywhere  to  kneel  from  fear.  Since  the  law  of 
May  thirty  first,  the  assembly  had  been  frightfully 
unpopular.  An  isolated  combat  would  only  decimate 
an  improvised  army,  arid  render  more  atrocious  the 
assault  against  the  Republicans.  An  army,  ready 
to  rise  simultaneously,  all  over  France,  must  be  pre- 
pared. Even  when  it  is  just,  civil  war  is  a  lamentable 
extremity.  Macon  was  to  be  the  theatre  of  its  out- 
break. This  probability  made  me  shudder.  Then, 
I  seemed  to  hear  the  peaceful  respirations  of  my 
sleeping  wife  and  child;  should  I  make  them  quick 
and  troubled,  by  rushing  headlong  into  the  unknown  ? 
Had  the  hour  really  come  for  such  a  sacrifice  ?  I 
did  not  sleep  until  morning.  The  tocsin,  sounding 
from  the  market,  awakened  me.  Hurried  steps  were 
heard  in  the  streets.  Cries  came  from  the  village 
doors. 


THE  BAND  OF  GENGOUX. 


257 


It  was  the  death-knell  of  the  country,  and  the 
first  funeral  signal  of  the  insurrectionary  march  of 
Caesar. 

Fresh  reports  were  constantly  coming  to  the 
chateau.  The  band  of  Gengoux,  as  they  called  these 
soldiers  of  Liberty,  had  just  arrived.  The  brigands 
were  carrying  away  the  fire-arms  from  the  houses, 
and  had  even  forced  the  strong-box  of  the  assessor. 

The  people  could  not  comprehend,  and  permitted 
it.  The  men  were  gathering  wood,  in  the  forest, 
and  the  women  were  at  the  river,  washing.  Drums 
were  beating,  dismally,  in  the  street ;  guns  were  ex- 
ploding in  inexperienced  hands,  and  all  this  for 
a  legitimate  demand,  but  under  deceptive  appear- 
ances. 

My  neighbor  had  not  deceived  me.  I  saw  twelve 
armed  men  coming  down  the  avenue  of  acacias,  and 
crossing  the  bridge  over  the  canal.  I  hurriedly  em- 
braced the  dear  ones,  who  surrounded  me  crying  for 
fear  that  they  were  going  to  take  me  away.  Then 
taking  my  gardener  and  servant  as  witnesses,  I  went 
to  the  foot  of  the  great  staircase,  to  wait  for  them. 
The  neighbors  half  crazy  with  fear,  were  crowding 
into  the  kitchen  door.  I  recognized  several  well- 
known  faces  in  the  advancing  column.  At  its  head, 
was  citizen  D. — who  had  given  many  proofs  of  de- 
votion to  liberty,  during  his  life. 
He  was  the  speaker. 


258  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

He  demonstrated  in  a  very  few  words,  that  the 
riot  was  with  the  violators  of  the  Constitution  ;  that 
the  National  Guards  of  Saint-Gengoux  were  going  to 
re-establish  republican  authority  in  the  chief  places, 
and  they  demanded  in  the  name  of  a  common  faith, 
that  I  should  put  myself  into  their  ranks. 

I  replied  that  the  question  of  right  had  not  been 
asked,  that  we  must  try  and  save  the  Republic  by 
some  other  means  than  a  generous  imprudence,  that 
the  ballot  box  would  soon  be  open,  and  corrupt  as 
it  might  be,  we  must,  before  all,  try  this  pacific  meas- 
ure, and  that  for  my  part,  I  was  resolved  to  await 
events,  and  in  all  probability,  proscription.  Citizen 
D.,  by  not  insisting,  proved  that  he  was  of  my  opin- 
ion, at  heart.  He  said,  that  he  must  proceed  to  make 
requisitions.  I  asked  him  for  a  written  statement. 
I  could  give  nothing  to  the  war,  since  I  had  refused 
my  person. 

D.  consented.  He  demanded  a  horse,  to  send  an 
orderly  to  Cluny,  and  took  an  old  carbine  brought 
from  Spain,  and  a  few  charges  of  powder  that  I  had 
for  my  pistols.  This  was  all.  Twenty  men  were 
witnesses. 

D.  was  going  away  with  his  National  Guard.  I 
called  him  back. 

"  An  isolated  movement  is  always  a  foolish  one," 
said  I  to  him,  in  a  low  tone.  "  France  is  in  a  dor- 
mant state,  and  will  not  protest.  We  know  it.'' 


FUTILE  RESISTANCE. 


259 


"  I  know  it,  too,  but  there  are  among  us,  those 
who  urge,  and  press.  You  will  do  better  to  wait,  I 
am  not  free." 

He  pressed  my  hand  sadly,  called  together  his 
cohort  composed  of  two  hundred  men,  and  they  left 
for  Cluny,  singing  the  Marseillaise. 

Five  hours  after,  my  horse  was  brought  back  to 
me.  There  was  almost  a  panic,  the  next  day  at 
Macon.  Stupid  reports  were  in  circulation,  that  the 
peasants  of  Lugny  and  Aze  were  coming  with  bags 
to  pillage  the  houses.  A  battalion  of  engineers,  was 
sent  out  on  the  road  to  meet  them.  The  insurgents 
had  recruited  at  Cluny  and  Samt-Sorlin,  to  the  num- 
ber of  five  hundred.  They  were  poorly  armed,  and 
had  no  ammunition.  The  meeting  took  place  four 
miles  from  Macon,  just  before  reaching  the  park 
belonging  to  M.  de  Rambateau.  There  was  only  one 
feeble  discharge  of  musketry. 

Not  an  engineer  was  touched. 

The  commandant  saw  that  he  was  dealing  with 
inexperienced  rebels,  and  showed  them  that  they  did 
not  aim  with  precision.  Three  men  fell,  and  the 
others  dispersed.  A  few  arrived  in  great  disorder  at 
Nancelle,  where  Champvans  kindly  received  them. 

This  was  the  only  resistance  to  the  Coup  d'Etat 
in  the  Maconnais. 

Lamartine  had  judged  his  country  well. 

Three  days  after  all  the  newspapers  of  Paris  were 


260  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

sold  to  the  Empire.  Those  allowed  to  appear,  an- 
nounced, that  a  rich  proprietor,  between  Saint-Gen- 
goux  and  Cluny,  had  aided  and  abetted  the  insur- 
rection, by  giving  three  thousand  francs  to  the  chief. 
Afterwards,  books,  paid  for  by  the  police,  openly 
named  me,  and  with  the  vivid  imagination  of  Vidocq 
charged  still  more  to  my  account. 

I  wrote  to  all  of  the  Parisian  papers,  denying  the 
charge,  and  stating,  that  the  men  had  taken  nothing 
except  by  requisition,  and  that  private  property  had, 
in  every  instance,  been  respected.  So  universal  had 
been  the  subjugation,  that  not  a  single  paper  had  the 
courage  to  publish  my  vindication,  and  the  justifica- 
tion of  my  compatriots. 

They  were  more  noble  at  Macon.  A  legitimist 
paper,  "  La  Bourgogne,"  though  inimical  to  my  opin- 
ions, exposed  itself  to  proscription,  by  daring  to  say 
what  I  wanted,  in  three  lines. 

The  proscription  was  going  on  very  well  with  us. 
A  Napoleonic  proconsul  had  just  arrived.  He  died 
two  months  ago,  Chamberlain  of  the  Emperor  of 
Russia,  bearing  the  title  of  Baron  de  Romand.  M. 
de  Romand  deigned  to  think  of  me. 

He  proceeded  with  a  perfidy,  which  showed  in 
advance  his  aptitude  for  Muscovite  favors. 

The  Saint-Gengoux  expedition  was  a  good  excuse 
for  making  many  arrests. 

The  Prefecture  investigated  opinions,  not  acts.     I 


THE  SUMMONS  26l 

was  summoned   to  appear  before  the  Judge  of  In- 
struction, as  witness. 

This  was  a  beginning.  The  deposition  might  be 
turned  into  an  accusation.  My  friends  were  convinced 
that  I  never  would  return  to  Macon.  I  went  to 
Monceaux,  the  evening  before,  to  tell  Lamartine  of 
the  citation.  Public  agitations  absorbed  personal 
incidents,  and  he  did  not  pay  much  attention  to  what 
I  said.  However,  the  next  morning,  I  was  called  into 
his  cabinet. 

"  Ever>T  word  spoken  to  day,  has  the  power  of 
sending  you  to  Cayenne,"  said  he.  "  What  will  be 
your  attitude,  before  the  Judge  of  Instruction  ?  " 

"  I  remember  every  thing  distinctly,"  said  I,  "  and 
I  shall  clear  these  generous  fellows  from  every  im- 
putation." 

"  But  the  question  is  also  with  yourself.  M.  de 
Romand  is  seeking  for  some  means  to  implicate  me 
in  the  uprising,  and  it  is  very  natural.  I  rendered 
him  some  service,  at  the  time  I  thought  that  he  was 
writing  for  freedom.  To  reach  me  through  my  friends, 
would  be  a  good  recommendation  for  him,  to  his 
government.  Be  convinced  that  it  is  I,  who  will  ap- 
pear in  your  guise.  Give  me  your  deposition.  Do  not 
change  any  thing.  Let  us  weigh  the  terms,  together." 

I  told  him  all  that  I  could  remember.  He  listened 
with  his  head  in  his  hands. 

'There   is   enough  to   transport  you,"  said  he, 


262  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

"  Bonaparte's  men  will  not  understand,  that  you  have 
not  happened  to  be  killed  to  save  your  percussion 
caps,  and  the  second  of  December.  M.  X.,  the  judge, 
is  a  worthy  compatriot.  He  will  not  listen  to  the 
Palais  de  1'Elysee,  while  he  is  writing  your  testimony, 
Promise  me,  that  you  will  come  back  to  dinner,  this 
evening.  Give  me  up." 

Lamartine  was  visibly  anxious,  and  I  was  also, 
but  only  on  his  account. 

"  What  will  you  do  ?"  said  I  to  him.  "Bonaparte 
will  not  dare  to  touch  you,  but  you  cannot  breathe 
the  air  of  the  Empire." 

"  I  shall  settle  in  the  East.  I  will  build  a  house 
near  mine,  for  your  family.  I  have  drawn  you  into 
the  tempest,  and  it  shall  be  my  duty  and  pleasure  to 
conduct  you  safely  into  port.  I  would  set  out  to- 
morrow, if  my  affairs  had  not  put  the  inquisitorial 
collar  around  my  neck.  A  political  man  ought  not 
to  make  debts.  I  have  been  very  foolish.  My  histo- 
rical dignity  will  be  lowered  by  my  actual  nakedness, 
but  I  will  work  hard  enough  to  free  myself.  I  will 
go  and  temper  the  swords  of  France  in  the  waters  of 
the  Styx.  My  country  is  delivered  up  to  Mandrin. 
Come  back  soon." 

He  was  sending  me  away. 

"  If  you  are  arrested,  I  will  plead  for  you,"  added 
he,  at  the  door.  "  I  will  make  your  condemnation 
glorious." 


EXILE,  A  PASSPORT,  OR  PARDON.  263 

He  was  not  deceived  in  regard  to  M.  X., 

The  judge,  evidently,  betrayed  the  mission  he  had 
received.  He  dictated  my  testimony  to  his  secretary, 
and  softened  the  ambiguities  which  might  have  com- 
promised me.  I  was  glad  enough  to  weaken  the 
charges  that  weighed  upon  citizen  D.,  and  those  who 
followed  or  were  led,  by  him. 

There  was  no  possibility  of  drawing  a  bolt  upon 
me.  M.  de  Romand  foamed  with  rage.  He  pub- 
licly announced  that  my  participation  in  the  revolt, 
could  not  remain  unpunished. 

For  a  fortnight  he  talked  of  Algeria.  Afterwards, 
the  protests  were  so  vehement  that  he  limited  himself 
to  saying,  that  he  should  send  me  a  passport. 

I  went  to  Paris. 

A  friend  made  the  journey,  expressly,  to  warn 
me  that  the  decision  was  irrevocable,  and  that  I  had 
only  to  anticipate  it,  by  choosing  my  place  of  exile. 

I  preferred  to  wait  until  my  arbiter  was  more  ex- 
plicit. I  had  not  the  pleasure  of  being  seriously  pur- 
sued. Mme.  de  Romand,  a  woman  of  influence,  and 
of  great  intelligence,  had  met  my  mother,  and  been 
much  attracted  by  the  serenity  of  my  father.  Doubt- 
less, she  did  not  desire  to  see  a  tragedy  in  the  family. 
The  charge  remained,  but  the  passport  was  de 
stroyed. 


XIX. 

A  Period  of  Relaxation. 

I  WILL  not  close  my  book,  upon  which  I  must 
soon  put  the  seal  of  the  tomb,  without  showing 
Lamartine  in  those  merry  happy  times  he  often  gave 
himself. 

In  1854  we  were  at  Saint-Point.  One  morning 
he  mounted  the  winding  stairs  leading  to  my  room, 
and  said. 

"  I  must  go  to  Monceaux  to-day,  to  taste  the 
wines.  Will  you  go  with  me,  and  give  me  your 
opinion  ?  " 

He  did  his  duty,  conscientiously,  as  "  proprie- 
taire."  He  entered  the  press  with  his  little  silver  cup, 
tasted,  made  a  grimace  of  approbation,  and  then  gave 
his  opinion  as  connoisseur. 

The  truth  was,  that  he  knew  little  or  nothing 
about  it,  and  I,  much  less. 

I  said  to  him  ; 

"  I  shall  be  a  poor  judge.  You  had  better  take 
Holland." 

"  Holland's  taste  is  spoiled  by  his  wines  of 
Thorins.  You  can  give  me  an  unbiassed  opinion. 
How  did  you  come  yesterday?" 


A    VISIT  TO  BU SSI  EKE.  26$ 

"  On  horseback.'' 

"Will  your  horse  harness  well?" 

"Not  at  all.     He  kicks." 

"That  is  nothing.  We  will  harness  him  with 
Saphyr.  You  know,  he  is  the  only  horse  that  I  have 
now.  We  will  go  by  Tramayes,  and  I  will  show  you 
the  Bois  des  Sanves,  those  melancholy  groves  of  my 
youth,  where  the  spirit  of  poesy  used  to  come  to  me. 
You  will  find  some  for  your  use,  but  I  will  not  answer 
for  the  quality.  We  will  stop  at  Bussiere,  to  see 
Mile.  Bruys,  who  will  send  us  on  to  Monceaux.  It 
will  be  a  charming  ride  in  the  fog." 

He  worshipped  the  fog,  as  I  have  said.  It  may 
have  been  because  some  people  had  compared  him 
to  Baour-Lormian,  the  translator  of  Ossian. 

We  breakfasted  at  once. 

York  was  not  very  rebellious,  and  accommodated 
himself  easily  to  his  chance  companion. 

The  route  by  Tramayes  was  hilly,  and  the  horses 
were  obliged  to  walk.  To  save  time,  Lamartine  gave 
up  showing  me  the  Bois  de  Sanves,  which  I  had 
already  seen  more  beautiful  than  in  nature,  in  his 
harmonious  description. 

We  reached  Bussiere  without  incident.  I  was 
anxious  to  know  how  we  were  to  get  to  Monceaux; 
Mile,  Bruys  had  only  one  old  horse,  and  an  old- 
fashioned  round  carriage,  dating  back  to  the  begin- 
ning of  the  eighteenth  century,  that  always  at- 


266  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIEXDS. 

tracted  a  curious  crowd  whenevei  it  appeared  in  the 
streets    of  Macon. 

Bussiere  had  been  one  of  Lamartine's  visiting 
places,  in  his  youth.  Mile.  Bruys,  stiff,  and  straight, 
was  travelling  gently  towards  her  ninetieth  year. 
The  house  was  very  correct  and  proper,  like  its 
owner.  There  were  two  outside  stair-cases,  narrow, 
and  steep  ;  one  descending  into  a  little  court,  where 
no  carriage  could  enter,  and  the  other,  into  a  little 
garden,  so  contracted  that  seven  or  eight  cassocks 
entirely  rilled  it,  when  Mile.  Couronne,  in  extreme 
indulgence,  permitted  the  cures  to  hold  a  conference 
there.  I  have  never  known  a  house  so  perfumed  with 
quinces  and  sweetmeats.  The  table  was  always 
spread  and  a  numerous  family  filled  the  house.  It 
was  a  hotel,  carried  on  by  the  strictest  economies. 
Mile.  Bruys  was  the  sole  survivor  of  a  large  circle  of 
brothers,  and  sisters.  One  of  the  brothers,  M. 
Bruys  de  Vaudran,  as  a  neighbor  had  the  honor  of 
teaching  the  future  author  of  the  "  Meditations," 
to  write.  We  were  distantly  related,  and  I  came 
to  Bussiere  like  the  other  cousins.  Mile.  Couronne 
was  not  rich,  though  the  inheritor  of'  all  the  succes- 
sions, and  her  hospitality  resulted  from  her  rigid 
order.  Everything  was  methodical  with  her,  from 
the  arrangement  of  her  blonde  hair,  to  the  ordering 
of  a  repast,  or  the  regulating  of  a  conversation. 
She  permitted  very  little  approach  to  levity,  but  we 


MLLE.  BRUYS. 


267 


were  told,  that  it  had  wandered  around  her,  in  her 
youth. 

There  was  a  cure"  at  Bussie>e,  a  veritable  cur£  of 
a  precious  type,  having  a  loud  voice,  and  his  hand 
always  extended  towards  a  bottle  of  wine.  He  was 
the  manager  of  Mlle.'s  money  matters,  and  though 
knowing  how  to  make  a  capital  out  of  the  revenue 
entrusted  to  him,  he  was,  nevertheless,  serviceable, 
charitable,  and  always  ready  to  take  the  initiative. 
He  had  confessed  to  my  father  his  long  hesitation 
between  the  profession  of  commercial  traveller  and 
the  apostolate,  and  had  chosen  the  altar  as  providing 
a  certainty. 

Bruys  d'Ouilly  was  the  presumptive  heir  to  the 
house,  but  he  was  already  ruined  when  the  will  was 
made,  and  the  cur£  persuaded  the  aunt  that  she 
would  be  insane  to  leave  her  fortune  to  one  who  did 
not  know  how  to  take  care  of  his  own,  for  an  eater 
should  not  have  his  bread  assured.  In  spite  of  the 
cure,  Mile,  heroically  left  L£on  Bruys  two  hundred 
francs  a  year,  as  long  as  he  lived. 

Lamartine  did  not  suspect  the  tricks  of  the  apos- 
tolic staff,  and  preserved  a  traditional  respect  for  the 
last  survivor  of  an  honorable  family. 

Mile.  Couronne  received  us  in  a  parlor  where  there 
was  no  fire,  though  the  weather  was  cold.  The  cur6 
was  there.  Lamartine  declared  his  intention  at  once 
of  asking  for  a  relay  to  Monceaux.  He  was  expect- 


268  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

ing  company  to  dine  at  Saint-Pcint,  and  his  horses 
must  be  saved  for  a  quick  return.  Mile.  Couronne  was 
disturbed.  She  knew  how  ridiculous  her  carriage  was 
for  him,  and  tried  to  excuse  herself;  at  the  same  she 
worshipped  Lamartine,  even  if  she  had  not  quite  for- 
given him  for  the  Republic,  and  did  not  like  to  refuse 
a  favor. 

<l  I  have  a  horse  and  cabriolet,  M.  Alphonse," 
said  the  cure",  "  I  am  also  something  of  a  driver,  and 
can  show  you  the  country  as  well  as  one  of  Lafitte's 
and  Gaillard's  conductors." 

Lamartine  had  no  desire  to  be  indebted  to  him, 
and  was  secretly  amused  at  the  embarrassment  of 
Mile.  Couronne,  who  did  not  dare  to  confess  her 
equipage. 

"  I  have  a  great  desire  to  go  in  Mile.  Bruys'  coupe"," 
said  he,  "  My  uncle  has  often  praised  its  springs." 

This  promotion  to  the  dignity  of  a  coupe"  touched 
Mile.  Bruys. 

"  My  gardener  has  gone  to  the  Fair  at  Pierreclos, 
to-day,  and  I  have  no  one  to  harness,"  said  she. 

"  I  will  do  it,"  said  the  cure,  impetuously. 

"  You  have  a  funeral  to  attend  to,  M.  le  Cure," 
said  Lamartine.  "  The  bell  was  ringing,  as  we  came 
by." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  the  cure",  opening  a  little 
closet,  and  drinking  a  glass  of  cordial,  before  going 
away. 


TOINETTE  TO  THE  RESCUE.  269 

Affairs  were  growing  complicated,  and  Lamartine, 
anticipating  a  gay  recital  to  make  to  his  nieces,  in  the 
evening,  was  visibly  delighted. 

Toinette  was  there. 

Toinette  was  the  only  servant  of  the  house,  who 
prepared  dinner  for  a  dozen  people,  and  arranged  all 
the  rooms. 

She  remembered  when  he  used  to  come  with  his 
friend  Ducret  de  T  Ange,  only  a  young  man  of  eighteen, 
and  she  loved  him  passionately. 

She  had  suspected  an  episode,  and  was  indiscreetly 
listening  at  the  half-open  door. 

"  Bijou  shall  be  in  the  shafts  in  less  than  fifteen 
minutes,"  said  she.  "  I  sometimes  take  Mile,  to 
Saint-Sorlin." 

Toinette  on  the  box  ! 

This  perspective  redoubled  Lamartine's  delight. 
But  she  was  disagreeable  to  me,  and  we  were  likely 
to  meet  some  of  the  country  gentlemen,  who  would 
make  remarks. 

I  gave  a  straight  blow  to  Lamartine's  hopes. 

"  Your  coachman  will  drive  you,"  said  I. 

Lamartine  was  thoroughly  disposed  to  laugh  that 
day.  A  change  of  object,  gave  him  another  opportu- 
nity for  exercising  his  love  for  the  ridiculous.  The 
coachman  had  had  his  day  of  fine  turn-outs  and 
prancing  steeds.  Would  he  consent  to  mount  the 
antediluvian  box  ?  Lamartine  gave  his  arm  to 


2/0  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

Mile.  Couronne,  and  we  descended  to  the  stable- 
yard. 

Toinette  had  harnessed  Bijou,  and  was  holding 
him  outside.  The  coup£  had  been  drawn  out.  It 
seemed  to  me  more  amusing  than  ever.  It  was 
absolutely  a  fossil.  The  sun  and  rain  had  left  their 
traces.  It  had  all  the  colors  of  a  mouldy  palette. 
Mile.  Couronne  looked  at  it  with  shame  and  ten- 
derness. 

"  It  was  thirty  years  old,  when  I  made  my  first 
communion,"  said  she.  '•'  The  grandparents  and  all 
the  aunts  younger  than  I  am  now,  have  ridden  in  it. 
I  am  sorry  not  to  be  able  to  offer  you  a  more  suitable 
carriage,  M.  Alphonse,  but  I  see  at  the  door  so  many 
faces,  that  I  weep  in  looking  at  it." 

This  poetical  tenderness  was  lost  on  the  coachman. 
He  would  only  drive  the  berlin,  or  take  his  dismissal. 
He  was  attached  to  Lamartine.  and  deigned  to  help 
Toinette  harness,  but  that  was  all.  The  great  Bijou 
filled  the  traces  well.  He  looked  like  a  miller's  horse, 
and  there  was  not  much  prospect  of  reaching  Mon- 
ceaux  before  night. 

"Hurry,  and  get  over  the  road  through  the  vines, 
so  that  no  one  may  see  you,"  said  Mile.  Couronne. 

Lamartine  sent  back  a  hasty  benediction,  and 
seated  himself  on  one  of  the  cushions.  I  retreated, 
as  far  as  possible,  into  one  corner,  so  that  he  should 
have  full  liberty  of  movement,  for  the  space  was 


THE  ANCIENT  COUPE. 


2/1 


contracted.  I  gazed  upon  that  great  historical  head 
in  its  incongruous  frame. 

"  It  was  a  capital  idea  of  yours  to  borrow  Mile,  de 
Bruys'  horse,"  said  he.  "  My  history  would  have 
been  lacking,  without  this  journey." 

So  it  was  /  who  had  had  the  idea  ! 

The  road  through  the  vines,  was  full  of  people 
that  day.  We  met  the  splendid  equipage  of  a 
neighbor,  who  had  come  out  boldly  with  four  horses, 
showing  his  fortunate  speculations  at  the  Bourse. 
The  carriage  occupied  the  whole  road.  It  was  full 
of  gay  young  ladies,  laughing  merrily.  The  pro- 
prietor, dressed  in  a  kind  of  livery, was  driving.  He 
stopped. 

"  The  devil !  Here  is  Mile.  Bruys'  wheelbar- 
row !  "  he  cried.  It  will  frighten  my  horses  and  they 
will  break  their  legs  against  the  rocks." 

He  tried  to  turn  to  one  side,  but  his  horses  were 
frightened,  and  with  one  spring,  reared. 

Bijou  was  imperturbable  and  continued  his  little 
trot,  and  following  a  straight  line,  he  passed  between 
the  carriage  and  ravine. 

I  hoped  that  Lamartine  would  conceal  himself 
behind  the  panel,  but  he  was  determined  to  produce 
an  effect. 

He  lowered  the  glass  and  saluted.  The  laughs 
ceased.  The  volatile  heads  inclined. 

One  of  the  ladies  told  me,  afterwards,  that  she 


272  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

did  not  believe  him  so  ruined.  During  that  week, 
she  subscribed  to  the  "  Cours  de  Litte"rature."  Lam- 
artine  sent  the  money  to  Mile.  Couronne,  to  distribute 
among  her  poor. 

He  was  very  much  amused  at  the  encounter,  at 
first,  but  soon  relapsed  into  silence  and  memories. 
The  road  to  Milly  always  brought  to  him,  its  phan- 
toms. 

"  Why  should  I  not  tell  you  what  is  absorbing 
me  ? "  said  he.  Between  these  walnut  trees  and 
vine-stakes,  I  have  had  more  heart-beats,  than  any 
where  else.  Remember  what  I  tell  you,  and  put  it 
into  one  of  your  romances,  and  if  it  causes  one  half 
as  many  tears,  as  it  has  cost  me,  you  will  have  had  a 
success." 

"  Do  not  try  to  remember  an  event  that  grieves 
you,"  said  I. 

"  Bah  !  the  sorrows  of  early  days  are  the  music 
that  stirs  the  soul.  I  was  a  lover  in  those  days,  and 
I  see  her  now  a  dear  little  girl  of  seventeen.  I  was  a 
few  months  older  than  she.  It  was  Mile.  P., of  whom 
I  shall  speak  in  my  "  Memoires."  I  had  not  a 
thought  beyond  the  pink  and  white  between  her 
black  curls.  Whenever  I  pressed  her  hand,  in  the 
crowd  coming  from  church,  my  heart  beat  all  the 
afternoon  on  the  quay.  I  had  decided,  irrevocably, 
to  marry  her,  and  triumph  over  the  difficulties  made 
by  my  family.  My  mother  closed  her  eyes  and  lis- 


A  ROMANCE. 


273 


tened  to  my  heart.  My  father  allowed  himself  to  be 
softened  by  her.  But  there  was  my  uncle,  M.  de 
Lamartine,  whose  very  name  had  been  the  terror  of 
my  life.  I  had  confessed  nothing,  but  they  knew  all. 
There  was  a  barrier  between  two  souls,  seeking  each 
other.  I  was  indignant  that  a  social  question  should 
arise  against  nature,  and  that  one  found  in  me  a  con- 
ventional superiority  over  that  incomparable  creature. 
M.  de  Lamartine  was  an  autocrat,  like  the  only  rich 
member  of  a  family,  and  the  keeper  of  its  hopes. 
Everbody  knelt  obediently  to  him,  and  educated  me 
in  the  same  sentiment  of  slavery.  I  have  always  told 
you  that  theoretically  Voltairian  as  he  was,  he  pre- 
served an  invincible  prejudice  of  caste.  Mile.  P. 
belonged  to  the  bourgeoisie,  and  her  charms  were 
unworthy  of  a  needy  nobleman.  I  had  re-read  "  Le 
Contrat  social,"  one  morning,  and  was  indulging  in  a 
fond  hope.  M.  de  Lamartine  had  offered  himself  for 
some  election,  I  do  not  remember  what.  M.  P.,  could 
command  fifty  votes,  and  though  he  held  himself  in 
a  dignified  and  anticipative  attitude,  he  did  not  dis- 
dain my  alliance,  and  would  make  no  opposition  to 
my  uncle,  if  my  uncle  was  reasonable.  I  took  my 
gun,  and  started  off  to  the  mountains  to  hunt  for 
verses,  rather  than  rabbits.  The  terrible  uncle  had 
honored  Milly  with  a  visit.  He  had  criticized  every 
thing  on  the  table,  found  fault  with  my  sisters'  un- 
becoming toilettes,  and  finally,  without  taking  a  gun, 


2/4  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

had  followed  me,  evidently  fully  decided  to  tell  me 
the  whole  truth,  face  to  face.  I  had  girded  my  loins 
with  resolution,  and  had  sworn  that  I  would  remain 
impregnable,  for  I  had  already  made  my  plans,  in  the 
firm  belief  that  I  had  a  vocation  for  diplomacy. 
Nevertheless,  as  we  mounted  into  the  solitude  of 
the  vines,  I  began  to  falter.  My  uncle  followed  me 
through  the  stakes,  without  opening  his  lips,  and  I 
would  not  break  a  silence  that  was  to  reveal  so  much. 
To  gain  courage,  I  aimed  at  a  little  bird,  that  was 

o  o      T  ' 

picking  at  the  grapes.  I  did  not  look,  for  I  had  a 
horror  of  assassination.  The  bird  flew  away,  melodi- 
ously singing  a  song  of  gratitude. 

"  If  that  is  the  way  you  attain  all  that  you  aim  at, 
you  will  not  catch  a  great  deal,"  said  M.  de  Lamar- 
tine. 

I  entered  at  once  into  the  full  persuasion  that  I 
was  going  to  make  a  bold  stroke  by  a  strategem; 
"  I  do  not  miss  my  aim  every  day,"  I  replied,  "  Yes- 
terday I  had  the  pleasure  of  talking  with  M.  P.  and 
I  have  spoken  particularly  in  reference  to  the  elec- 
tions. M.  P.  will  vote  for  you."  His  look  fell  upon 
me,  with  the  sharpness  of  lightning. 

"  I  thank  you  for  the  opportunity  of  showing  you 
what  I  have  in  my  game  bag,"  he  retorted.  "You 
do  not  deceive  me  as  to  the  true  subject  of  your 
conversation  with  M.  P.  and  I  have  no  desire  to  buy 
his  vote  by  a  concession  degrading  to  us.  My  heir 


THE  STERN  UNCLE. 


2/5 


shall  never  be  his  son-in-law,  understand  that.  We 
commenced  by  the  bourgeoisie,  but  several  genera- 
tions have  purified  us,  and  we  will  not  finish  by  it. 
If  you  should  find  a  Venus  de  Medecis  in  a  house 
where  there  has  been  a  shop,  I  would  not  call  her 
my  niece. 

"  If  M.  P.  were  a  little  more  learned  he  might  be 
my  associate  at  the  Academy  of  Macon,  but  he  never 
should  be  related  to  me.  You  have  the  honor  of 
being  a  nobleman,  preserve  your  rank.  As  for  your 
heart,  give  it  to  whom  you  please,  but  do  not  drag 
it  before  the  Mayor.  The  Rhone  traverses  the  Le- 
man  without  losing  its  color.  Traverse,  if  you  like, 
the  bourgeoisie,  but  preserve  your  color,  do  not  mix 
your  blood.  A  sacrifice  must  be  made,  in  order  that 
promiscuity  shall  not  lead  to  confusion.  We  noble- 
men are  supposed  to  represent  loyalty.  It  is  a  glory 
well  worth  the  pain.  When  it  shall  be  your  turn  to 
protect  descendants,  you  will  thank  me  for  showing 
you  a  profile  of  truth.  You  are  condemned  to  marry 
a  vicountess.  She  may  not  bring  you  a  rose,  but  she 
will  bring  you  a  fine  genealogical  tree,  that  will  take 
root  in  the  soil  of  the  domains  that  I  shall  leave  you. 
Now,  overwhelm  me,  if  you  like,  with  your  anger. 
Assuage  your  grief  by  writing  an  elegy  upon  it,  and 
an  iambic  against  me.  If  your  purse  is  long  enough, 
elope  with  Mile.  P.;  get  an  English  blacksmith  or  an 
imbecile  Spanish  priest  to  marry  you.  I  remind  you, 


276  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

that  you  are  a  minor,  and  we  have  the  power  to  put 
you  under  lock  and  key.  If  you  succeed  in  forcing 
the  bolts,  say  to  yourself,  that  you  mean  to  ruin  the 
family.  I  shall  withdraw  your  father's  annuity,  and 
shall  give  no  dowries  to  your  sisters.  I  would  rather 
find  a  Lamartine  of  the  youngest  and  most  obscure 
branch,  to  leave  my  property  to.  I  warn  you.  I 
withdraw  my  nomination,  and  you, — renounce  your 
lady  love." 

And  away  he  went,  whistling  to  my  dog  who  fol- 
lowed him,  showing  the  great  respect  that  even 
the  animals  of  the  household  had  for  him,  and  I  was 
left  alone  in  my  powerlessness.  I  thought  of  the  talk 
that  my  uncle's  arbitrariness  would  cause  in  the  city, 
of  my  dear  sisters,  whom  I  should  condemn  to  a  con- 
vent or  poverty ;  of  my  father,  who  would  not  have 
money  enough  to  buy  a  coat  for  Martinmas ;  and  of 
my  mother,  who  would  silently  embrace  me,  to  con- 
sole me,  but  would  die  of  sorrow,  at  the  degrada- 
tion of  her  children.  I  was  a  traitor  to  all  the  vows 
I  had  made  under  the  moon,  and  in  the  entrancing 
measures  of  the  waltz.  The  next  day  I  sent  a  part- 
ing letter  to  Mile.  P.,  and  to  submit  to  all  the  condi- 
tions, set  out  for  Italy." 

"  Where  you  met  Graziella,"  I  could  not  help  say- 
ing. 

"  Alas !  the  lyre  has  seven  strings,  and  I  have 
played  upon  all  of  them." 


YOUTH  GROWN  AGED. 


277 


"  But  Mile.  P.  has  not  inspired  your  poems.  If 
she  had,  she  would  have  been  surrounded  by  the  same 
eternal  halo  of  her  successors." 

"  She  has  not  kn^wn  it,  but  she  has  been  in  all 
my  portraits,  and  in  all  my  enthusiasms  of  Elvira  and 
Graziella.  I  do  not  exaggerate  in  saying,  that  there 
never  was  a  smile  more  exquisitely  attractive. 
Neither  the  Muses,  with  their  golden  tresses,  as  they 
danced  on  the  sacred  mount  of  Olympus,  nor  Laura, 
with  her  brown  locks  steeped  in  the  freshness  of  Vau- 
cluse,  could  compare  with  the  beauty  and  charm  of 
this  adorable  girl." 

We  were  approaching  Monceaux.  Bijou  had  not 
changed  his  solemn,  ministerial  trot.  A  group  was 
coming  towards  us. 

A  young  student,  in  uniform,  was  leading  a  donkey 
on  which  sat  an  old,  wrinkled,  shaking  woman. 

Lamartine  glanced  at  the  puce-colored  dress,  the 
old  hat  and  the  false  hair,  and  exclaimed  excitedly, 

"  Mademoiselle  P. !  '' 

After  more  than  forty  years,  he  had  met  and 
recognized  the  light  of  his  youth,  in  that  shadow. 
She  was  taking  a  constitutional  with  her  daughter 
and  grandson. 

What  a  termination  of  the  pastoral,  between  this 
incomparable  beauty,  and  that  incomparable  genius  ! 

Mademoiselle  P.,  bending  almost  double  on  her 
donkey  !  Lamartine,  in  the  old  chariot  of  Made- 


278  LA  MAR  TINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

moiselle  Bruys  !  Lamartine  drew  back  into  the 
depths  of  the  carriage,  saying  : 

"  I  will  be  more  generous  to  her  than  chance  has 
been  to  me,  I  will  spare  her  the  pain  of  recognizing 
me." 

Was  it  well  that  he  was  so  considerate  ? 


XX. 

Lamartines  Beneficence. 

I  SHOULD  reproach  myself,  if  I  did  not  show 
how  much  native  simplicity,  and  goodness,  there 
was  in  Lamartine,  and  will  give  a  few  instances  out 
of  the  many,  where  the  man  appeared  through  his 
historical,  political  and  literary  glory. 

Like  Titus,  I  do  not  believe  that  Lamartine  ever 
lay  down  at  night,  without  having  done  a  good  deed. 
There  was  this  difference,  that  Titus  planned  and 
remembered  his,  while  Lamartine's  were  spontaneous, 
and  forgotten. 

It  was  an  evening  during  one  of  his  numerous 
visits  to  me.  We  had  spent  the  day  in  conversation, 
and  walks  in  the  garden.  He  had  said  many  won- 
derful things  as  we  strolled  under  the  lime  trees,  along 
the  river  Grosne. 

There  were  still  two  hours  before  dinner. 

"  You  would  make  M.  N.,  very  proud  and  happy, 
if  you  went  to  see  him,"  said  I,  to  Lamartine.  "  I 
spend  a  couple  of  hours  with  him  every  week,  and  we 
talk  of  nobody  but  you." 

M.  N.,  was  one  of  my  old  neighbors,  of  the  liberal 
school  of  the  Restoration.  He  had  a  great  aversion 


280  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS, 

to  Lamartine  at  first,  but  gradually  had  gone  to  the 
other  extreme,  and  loved  him  to  fanaticism.  Uncon- 
sciously, he  changed  his  opinion  with  the  same  ease 
that  a  bird  hops  from  branch  to  branch,  and  because 
of  this  volatile  nature,  he  had  positively  no  political 
influence. 

He  was  a  great  sufferer  from  gout,  and  seldom 
went  away  from  home. 

"  Let  us  go  at  once,"  said  Lamartine,  moving 
towards  the  gate. 

I  stopped  him. 

"  You  do  not  understand  that  M.  N.  lives  a  mile 
and  a  half  from  here,  and  it  is  going  to  rain.  I  will 
have  the  horse  harnessed,  and  we  will  take  the  car- 
riage. It  is  not  quite  as  old  as  Mile.  Bruys'  coupe." 

"  I  would  rather  walk." 

I  insisted,  pleading  that  the  rain  would  bring  on 
an  attack  of  rheumatism,  and  that  it  would  be  dark 
before  we  could  cross  the  mountain,  and  the  horse 
would  be  ready  in  ten  minutes,  Nothing  would  do. 
He  took  the  umbrella  that  I  was  holding,  and  go, 
we  must. 

The  rain  came  down  upon  us  in  a  regular  deluge. 
I  proposed  returning,  but  Lamartine  was  firm. 

He  was  completely  drenched  by  the  time  we 
reached  M.  N's.  but  dried  himself,  merrily,  by  the 
fire.  The  return,  over  the  stony  road,  in  the  darkness 
and  storm,  gave  me  a  good  deal  of  anxiety.  Lan> 


THE   YOUNG  HOPEFUL.  28l 

artine  cheered  me  with  anecdotes  of  his  campaigns, 
in  the  mud  of  Flanders,  in  1804.  He  had  a  good 
appetite  for  his  dinner,  but,  in  the  evening,  he  was 
obliged  to  confess  to  a  cold. 

I  wanted  to  find  out  his  reason  for  this  nocturnal 
tramp.  He  had  some  other  motive  than  simply  to 
be  agreeable  to  M.  N.  Upon  inquiry,  I  discovered 
that  he  had  gone  into  the  stable  in  the  morning,  and 
had  found  one  of  the  horses  knee-sprung.  This 
explained  the  caprice.  He  would  rather  run  the  risk 
of  a  sickness,  than  cause  an  animal  to  suffer. 

Another  day,  we  went  to  see  one  of  the  neigh- 
bors, at  Saint-Point.  Not  meeting  anyone  in  the 
park,  I  rode  to  the  door,  and  rang  the  bell.  After 
waiting  some  time,  a  boy  about  twelve  years  old, 
came  along  very  slowly,  with  his  face  half  hidden  by 
a  monstrous  slice  of  bread  and  cheese. 

"  Is  your  father  at  home?  "  asked  Lamartine. 

"  Go  and  see,"  said  the  boy,  running  away,  laugh- 
ing impudently. 

The  little  rascal  was  acquainted  with  Lamartine, 
and  had  dined  at  Saint-Point,  only  a  few  days  before. 
We  were  highly  amused  at  this  informal  reception, 
and  questioned  Mme.  B's.  perfect  success  in  dis- 
ciplining her  hopeful  son.  Lamartine  took  his  horse 
to  the  stable,  and  gave  me  a  lesson  in  attaching  a 
halter,  in  which  he  put  all  the  pride  and  pleasure  of 
an  old  cavalier.  Then  we  went  through  the  lower 


282  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

part  of  the  house,  searching  all  the  rooms  without 
finding  any  one.  There  were  recent  traces  of  wheel- 
tracks  on  the  gravel,  and  we  concluded  that  M.  and 
Mme.  B.  had  gone  away. 

The  young  man's  impertinence  was  premeditated. 
We  had  some  time  to  wait,  as  the  horses  must  rest. 

"  Let  us  find  the  scamp,''  said  Lamartine,  "  and 
make  him  as  worthy  of  admiration  as  a  pupil  of 
Mme.  de  Genlis."  He  had  hidden  behind  a  tree 
with  his  bread  and  cheese,  not  giving  any  assistance, 
and  evidently  was  enjoying  our  embarrassment  very 
much. 

Lamartine  beckoned  to  him.  He  only  ran  a  little 
farther  away.  We  then  declared  war.  Each  of  us 
took  a  side,  and  enclosed  him  in  a  grove.  He  en- 
joyed the  play,  and  allowed  us  to  approach,  but  only 
under  protest. 

The  boy,  though  naturally  rude  and  saucy,  had 
really  a  fine  artistic  talent  for  the  piano.  Lamartine 
detested  a  genius  at  that  age,  but  he  sagaciously  at- 
tacked him  on  his  weak  side. 

"  You  must  play  Hertz,  variations  on  "  La  Vio- 
lette,"  for  us,"  said  he. 

He  had  learned  to  know  this  piece  from  having 
had  his  morniag  hours  of  inspiration  invaded  by  the 
agonies  of  a  tortured  piano. 

The  boy  was  touched,  and  became  gracious  at 
once. 


PHI  LI  BERT  AS  HOST. 


283 


"  I  would  like  very  much  to  play  for  you,"  he  re- 
plied, "  but  mamma  told  me,  the  other  day,  that  you 
did  not  understand  music." 

"  He  is  perfect !  "  said  Lamartine  in  a  low  tone. 

However  to  accomplish  his  purpose,  he  took  the 
youngster  by  the  arm  and  led  him  towards  the  house. 
His  cries  were  more  piercing  than  the  peacocks,  that 
were  spreading  their  beautiful  plumage  in  the  sun. 
and  they  reached  as  they  always  do,  the  maternal 
heart. 

Mme.  B.  appeared  on  the  door-steps,  terror- 
stricken.  She  had  a  suspicion  of  the  difficulty,  and 
hurried  to  meet  M.  de  Lamartine. 

"  I  was  asleep  on  the  sofa,  and  you  have  given  me 
a  great  fright,  opening  and  shutting  all  the  doors  in 
the  house.  I  am  sure  Philibert  has  been  impolite, 
and  has  done  all  that  he  could  not  to  give  you  any 
information.  I  will  speak  to  his  father  about  it,  and 
we  will  punish  him  severely."  Then  she  commenced 
the  chastisement  by  kissing  him. 

Lamartine  had  no  fear  of  any  serious  conse- 
quences, so  following  his  generous  inclinations,  he 
determined  to  leave  an  impression. 

"  Philibert  has  been  a  most  charming  host,"  said 
he,  "  he  has  exhausted  himself  in  aiding  us.  He  has 
taken  the  horses  to  the  stable,  hunted  for  the  ser- 
vants, and  not  finding  them,  has  brought  refreshments 
himself.  He  has  tried  to  converse,  and  shows  a  great 


284  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

deal  of  intelligence.  In  fact  he  has  quite  represented 
you,  Madame." 

Philibert  was  conscious  of  the  satire,  and  at  the 
same  time  encouraged.  He  did  not  have  the  weak- 
ness to  protest  against  the  praise. 

"  What  was  he  crying  for,  then,"  said  Mme.  B. 
judiciously. 

The  objection  was  overwhelming. 

"  He  was  crying  on  our  account,  Madame,"  said 
Lamartine.  "  We  had  not  been  able  to  find  you." 

These  small  details  would  have  no  value,  if  they 
did  not  relate  to  Lamartine.  They  come  back  to  me 
because  they  charmed  and  amused  me  then,  and  show 
that  his  innate  goodness  was  unfailing.  He  ignored, 
even  to  a  shade  of  sensitiveness,  everything  that  did 
not  touch  the  honor  of  his  country,  or  his  ideas. 

He  has  been  reproached  for  not  knowing  how  to 
hate.  This  is  true.  But  it  does  not  prove  that  he 
did  not  know  how  to  love. 

No  writer  has  ever  allowed  himself  to  be  more 
easily  criticized.  He  would  make  a  correction,  at 
the  least  objection,  unless  a  mental  protestation  for- 
bade. 

One  day,  when  he  had  changed  a  fine  line  to 
suit  a  professor,  who  had  made  a  criticism  as  narrow 
as  a  grammarian  could  make  it,  I  said  to  him, 

"You  do  not  respect  yourself  enough  in  your 
writings." 


THE  POET  AND  THE  GRAMMARIANS.        28$ 

"  Perhaps  not,"  said  he.  "  That  comes  from  my 
unfortunate  facility,  for  a  cast  is  scarcely  broken, 
before  I  mould  another  from  its  fragments.  These 
gentlemanly  Academicians  amuse  me  beyond  every- 
thing. They  do  not  see  that  it  is  we,  who  are  making 
the  grammar  over,"  he  added  with  a  kind  of  pride. 

He  received  immense  quantities  of  newspapers- 
Most  of  them  spoke  of  him  only  at  the  time  of  his 
great  struggles,  and  it  was  very  rare  that  these  cups 
of  enthusiasm  did  not  contain  a  drop  of  bitterness 
from  some  reactionary  source. 

When  these  annoyances  occupied  all  the  space, 
he  smiled  as  he  read  the  invectives,  and  did  not  even 
stipulate  that  they  should  be  well  written,  in  order  to 
forgive  them  at  once. 

"  I  employ  the  Mithridates  method,"  said  he. 
"  I  take  a  little  poison,  every  day,  so  that  it  may  not 
affect  me." 

"  A  person  cannot  live  very  long  on  such  a  diet," 
said  I. 

"  You  will  see  me  among  the  nineties.  In  my 
family,  the  bones  are  bronze.  When  I  was  young,  I 
had  a  passion  for  sudden  death,  but  I  am  condemned 
to  an  old  age." 

Yet  he  had  the  weakness  never  to  tell  his  age. 

I  do  not  know  why  he  always  claimed  to  have  been 
born  in  1793,  when  the  true  date  was  1790.  He  told 
this  so  often,  that  he  finally  believed  it.  His  youthful 


286  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

appearance  and  vigor  made  him  feel  young,  and  he 
thought  that  he  owed  it  to  his  reputation  to  disguise 
the  certificate  of  his  birth. 

There  was  a  tacit  agreement  between  his  sisters 
to  be  silent  on  the  question.  When  strangers  were 
present  they  quietly  accepted  the  exaggeration,  by 
which  he  reconstructed  his  civil  estate. 

The  truth  was  declared  one  morning  before  me. 
One  of  the  sisters  possessed  the  quality  of  frankness. 
Lamartine  had  just  proved  that  he  was  the  younger. 

There  were  some  remains  of  coquetry  in  her,  and 
naturally  she  was  indignant. 

"  Alphonse,"  said  she,  "  I  dare  you  to  tell  the 
name  of  my  God-father,  aloud." 

We  understood  at  once  that  Lamartine  was  the 
god-father.  The  sister  healed  the  wound  by  add- 
ing. 

"  And  say  too,  that  he  has  written  '  Les  Giron- 
dins,'  every  word  of  which  is  true." 

This  amiable  woman  still  lives.  She  has  been 
very  handsome,  and  when  we  want  to  see  Lamartine's 
profile  again,  we  can  find  it  in  that  retreat  where  she 
so  nobly  lives  with  the  memories  of  a  great  brother's 
glory. 

She  was  a  little  of  a  Bonapartist,  an  exception  in 
the  family.  There  were  interminable  discussions 
between  her  brother  and  herself.  After  freeing  her 
mind,  she  would  remember  who  her  antagonist  was, 


EUGENIE  DE  LAMARTINE.  287 

and  always  yield,  except  on  one  point  ;  the  cul- 
inary art. 

Lamartine  had  his  own  ideas  of  cookery,  and  pur- 
sued them  relentlessly  in  theory,  and  even  conde- 
scended to  fight  his  point.  I  have  often  seen  the 
sister  leave  the  table  in  tears,  and  the  next  day,  I 
was  sure  to  meet  Lamartine  on  his  way  to  her  room. 
Remembering  that  he  had  offended  her,  he  would 
leave  his  brightest  page  to  go  and  console  her.  He 
would  carry  candies,  that  probably  had  grown  sfale 
in  his  closet,  and  insist  that  her  miserable  little  dog 
had  much  more  intelligence  than  his  greyhounds,  and 
call  to  mind  the  spring-times  of  long  ago,  when 
Eugenie  used  to  attract  all  the  eyes  of  Macon  to  the 
graceful  undulations  of  her  white  dress,  and  the  rosy 
tints  of  her  cheeks,  as  she  came  out  of  the  new  church 
after  the  mass.  He  would  exhaust  himself  in  these 
demonstrations,  which  she  always  allowed  to  be  pro- 
longed, and  he  never  left  her  until  she  had  smiled 
forgiveness.  It  was  an  hour  lost  for  work  and  one 
gained  for  happiness. 

He  gave  constant  proof  of  his  inexhaustible  sweet- 
ness of  disposition. 

Nothing  was  more  distasteful  to  him  than  to  be 
disturbed  in  the  morning  at  his  work.  Mme.  de  Lam- 
artine had  built  a  chapel  at  Monceaux,  out  of  an  old 
theatre,  and  the  cur£  of  Presse'  came  Sundays,  to  say 
mass.  Once  in  a  while,  not  to  grieve  his  wife,  Lam 


288  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

artine  would  leave  his   work  and  go  to  mass.     He 
carried  under  his  arm  an  "  Imitation,"  a  "  Bossuet," 
or  a  "  Rousseau,"  just  as  it  happened,  but  he  did  not 
read  them.     He  communed  with  himself,  and  found 
within,  a  deistical  faith,  superior  to  all  dogmas. 

I  have  said  that  an  unhappy  chance  had  sent  his 
old  friend  and  physician  to  die  at  the  chateau.  His 
death  was  a  sorrow  to  the  whole  family,  and  almost 
caused  a  quarrel.  Dr.  Pascal  had  always  been  a  free 
thinker,  and  confessed  with  dignity  to  Voltairianism, 
whenever  the  occasion  required  it.  Madame  de 
Lamartine  and  the  other  ladies  desired  the  interven- 
tion of  the  Church,  and  their  passionate  religious 
ardor  led  them  to  introduce  a  priest  into  the  death- 
chamber,  at  night,  thus  disobeying  Lamartine,  who 
respected  the  wishes  of  his  dying  friend.  Lamartine 
learned  of  the  pious  strategem.  He  did  not  make 
any  scene,  but  desiring  to  remove  the  injury  done  to 
the  conscience,  and,  if  not  to  correct  the  evil,  at  least 
to  bring  the  soul  back  to  the  atmosphere  of  freedom, 
he  opened  the  door  before  dawn,  and  bending  over 
the  bed,  by  some  secret  divine  light  he  re-illumined 
the  reason  already  in  the  shadow  of  death.  When  he 
closed  the  half-shut  eyes,  they  had  seen  the  true  God. 

Lamartine  was  comforted  for  the  departure  of  his 
friend,  and  not  to  give  offense  to  the  neighboring 
priest,  he  allowed  them  to  say  that  the  doctor  had 
died  in  the  sacraments  of  the  church.  How  many 


REGRET— NOT  GRIEVING. 


289 


acts  of  watchfulness  and  secret  kindness,  unknown 
even  to  his  friends,  has  he  performed  in  this  outpour- 
ing of  benevolence  and  of  true  charity  ! 

Some  have  said  that  he  did  not  seem  to  regret  his 
dead  friends.  That  was  true  only  in  appearance.  I 
never  saw  him  shed  tears.  He  was  saddened  by  the 
absence  of  his  friends,  but  he  did  not  believe  in  death. 
He  felt  a  certainty,  to  which  conscience  gave  almost 
mathematical  proof,  that  he  should  see  the  departed 
again.  The  communion  of  souls  and  exchange  of 
words  were  alone  interrupted. 

One  day  after  a  political  act  of  great  significance, 
he  said  to  me, 

"  I  would  like  to  know  if  B£ranger  is  satisfied." 

Beranger  had  been  dead  eight  years. 

Lamartine  regretted,  but  did  not  grieve.  Grief 
seemed  to  him  a  weakness,  and  a  concession  to  the 
doctrine  of  annihilation.  He  respected  God  too  much 
to  admit  that  he  would  destroy  a  creature  in  whom 
He  had  implanted  a  belief  in  the  immortality  of  the 
soul.  I  have  often  asked  him  how  Immortality  was 
presented  to  him,  and  I  have  frequently  talked  with 
him  of  the  luminous  theory  of  the  spheres,  of  endless 
incarnations  in  renewed  humanities,  and  successive 
purifications.  I  was  very  much  convinced.  He  in- 
clined towards  the  probability  of  the  theory  but  never 
gave  a  decided  adhesion.  He  was  seeking  the  solu- 
tion of  the  great  problem. 


290 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FKIENDS. 


"I  shall  never  find  it,"  said  he,  "  but  you  shall 
know  of  what  I  have  had  a  glimpse.  I  will  write  a 
confession  of  faith  when  I  am  very  old,  and  the  book 
will  contain,  I  hope,  the  honey  of  all  my  seasons." 

He  never  thought  himself  old  enough  to  write  it 
literally,  but  as  Hugo  is  doing  now,  he  traced  a  liv- 
ing page  every  day.  He  prayed  by  acts  of  forgive- 
ness and  generosity,  which  gushed  from  him  as  from 
a  fountain  head,  passionate  or  refreshing,  according 
to  circumstances.  The  chaplets  of  holy  men  and 
women,  are  made  by  devoutly  stringing  shells,  or 
beads.  Lamartine's  was  made  by  the  continuous 
grains  of  kindness,  rolling  from  the  abundance  of  his 
heart.  We  could  spend  hours  in  telling  such  beads, 
but  we  would  rather  try  and  follow  the  path,  along 
which  like  a  prodigal  he  has  scattered  them. 

The  history  of  Leon  Bruys  d'Ouilly  speaks  too 
eloquently  of  Lamartine's  vigilance  not  to  repeat  it. 

Thanks  to  him,  in  spite  of  the  overwhelming  mis- 
fortunes that  pursued  Bruys,  sadness  never  came  into 
a  life  made  only  for  smiles. 

I  have  already  said  that  Bruys  fascinated  us,  in 
our  youth,  by  his  elegant  misconduct.  After  many 
fancies,  he  fixed  upon  one,  as  he  would  attach  him- 
self to  a  poet.  She  was  an  Italian  countess,  married, 
and  free  to  act  as  she  pleased.  To  us,  she  seemed 
to  have  come  directly  from  the  romances  of  Mme. 
Sand,  full  of  fascinations  and  daring  adventures. 


LEON  BR  UYS  D'O  UILL  Y.  2g  I 

Her  own  romance  was  so  well  known,  and  was  so 
sure  to  terminate  in  a  marriage,  that  Bruys  pre- 
sented me  to  her  as  a  future  cousin.  There  were  all 
sorts  of  passionate  conceits  in  the  intimacy,  beauty, 
wit,  the  traditions  of  an  illustrous  family,  long  jour- 
neys, winters  in  Paris,  an  admiring  world,  and  lastly 
a  husband  who  was  making  his  preparations  to  leave 
a  widow.  They  seemed  to  travel  through  Europe  in 
a  golden-wheeled  chariot,  which  illuminated  the  road 
it  passed  over.  The  bond  was  a  violation  of  social 
order,  but  in  such  good  taste,  and  with  so  many  jus- 
tifiable reasons,  that  the  horror  of  the  name  was  lost. 

I  have  also  intimated,.that  when  every  thing  was 
ready  for  a  legal  consummation,  the  old  count  dead, 
the  grand  villa  built  on  the  Maconnais,  suddenly 
there  arose  complications,  making  a  marriage  impos- 
sible, and  thus,  a  love  that  had  endured  for  ten 
years,  was  extinguished  at  the  moment  it  was  to 
have  been  legalized.  The  notary  was  inadmissible 
in  this  long  scene  of  masked  balls  and  promenades 
among  the  fountains,  music,  and  gondolas  of  Italy. 

The  forsaken  one  buried  herself  in  tears  as  sin- 
cere as  ever  came  from  mortal  eyes,  but  she  suffi- 
ciently recovered  a  few  years  after,  to  make  a  mar- 
riage of  great  renown.  L£on  tried  to  be  tragic,  but 
melancholy  never  came  naturally  to  him,  not  even  in 
his  complete  ruin.  The  marble  for  the  villa,  had 
absorbed  the  last  of  his  patrimony.  He  was  obliged 


292 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


to  sell  his  woods  and  lands,  little  by  little,  and  he 
determined  to  struggle  by  the  sole  courage  of  his 
will,  though  his  muscles  had  not  been  rubbed  with 
the  oil  of  strength. 

He  had  marked  talent  for  many  things,  and  yet 
without  Lamartine  he  would  have  died  of  hunger 
upon  a  mountain  of  irresolute  faculties.  His  politi- 
cal and  religious  convictions  did  not  call  him  to  a 
crusade,  which  at  any  rate,  was  lacking  to  an  epoch 
when  the  papal  zouaves  had  not  been  created.  So 
he  took  to  agriculture,  as  it  belonged  to  a  nobleman. 
He  went  to  his  stables,  or  to  the  fields  that  he  was 
clearing,  but  if  a  rhyme  was  suggested,  or  by  chance 
he  met  a  shepherdess,  he  halted.  The  wheat  never 
came  out  of  the  furrows,  the  grapes  never  went  to 
the  press,  and  his  last  penny  was  buried  in  a  com- 
post heap. 

Then  he  thought  of  music.  He  sang  and  com- 
posed well.  One  day  in  Venice  he  entered  a  circle 
surrounding  an  itinerant  musician,  on  the  Place  St. 
Mark.  Neapolitan  ballads  flowed  from  his  lips,  and 
money  flowed  into  his  purse.  He  was  applauded 
vociferously,  but  would  not  tell  his  name.  He  in- 
vited his  partner  to  supper  and  gave  him  the  receipts 
of  the  impromptu  concert.  But  what  had  been  an 
accidental  success,  could  not  become  a  resource. 
He  turned  to  his  paint  brushes,  which  he  handled 
with  as  much  skill  as  he  did  the  guitar.  He  hired  a 


L£O A'  BR UYS  D'O UIL LY.  293 

studio  in  the  Latin  quarter,  and  had  the  courage  and 
ability,  at  forty-five  years  of  age,  to  renew  youth. 
He  followed  the  path  immortalized  by  Miirger. 
There,  he  met  bagpipes,  but  not  fortune.  His  pas- 
tels, undefined  and  pastoral,  resembled  a  romance 
of  the  Restoration  far  too  strongly.  Purchasers  never 
came.  Due  bills  accumulated  over  the  pipes  we 
smoked  in  his  company.  We  did  our  best  to  dis- 
guise our  contributions.  They  were  extremely  in- 
sufficient to  the  needs  of  a  bachelor,  who  had  so 
many  luxurious  and  idle  hours  to  his  account.  It 
was  then  that  Lamartine  intervened.  To  give  was 
so  much  a  part  of  his  nature,  that  he  always  found 
an  opportunity  of  doing  it  acceptably.  In  the  coun- 
try, in  the  attic,  in  Paris,  and  in  the  peasant's  cottage 
where  Bruys  finally  took  refuge,  Lamartine  always 
came,  at  the  critical  moment,  with  a  note  of  one 
thousand  francs  in  his  hand,  and  begged  so  ingen- 
iously, that  he  succeeded  in  leaving  it  upon  the  table, 
without  offending  a  refined  susceptibility.  He  never 
desired  to  know  whether  the  money  was  applied  to 
pressing  needs,  or  to  diversions,  more  or  less  ortho- 
dox. He  simply  desired  to  continue  the  thread  of 
happiness  which  had  been  interwoven  in  all  the 
years  of  his  friend's  life.  At  a  time  when  he  was 
much  involved  in  debt,  and  Bruys  destitute,  he  sent 
a  cart  containing  food  enough  for  a  year,  so  that 
Bruys  might  come  oftener  to  see  him  at  Monceaux, 


294  LAMARTINE  AMD  HIS  FRIENDS. 

Lamartine  was  more  than  paternal,  he  was  maternal 
in  all  his  characteristics.  He  wrote  twenty  pages 
more,  that  Bruys'  purse  might  be  filled,  and  his  joy- 
ous nature  revived.  Instead  of  revolving  about  a 
countess,  this  facile  lover,  like  a  hero  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century,  found  plenty  of  amusement  in 
adoring  all  the  little  Suzons  of  the  field. 

Bruys  never  was  seriously  earnest,  except  in 
friendship  and  politics.  An  offshoot  of  a  legitimist 
branch,  and  educated  by  a  priest,  the  horror  of  cler- 
icalism had  driven  him  to  liberalism,  and  his  admira- 
tion for  Lamartine  had  led  him  to  republicanism. 
He  sold  his  last  acres  to  sustain  the  "  Bien  Public," 
and  to  travel  through  the  country  to  spread  the 
tenets  of  Democracy.  He  held  so  strictly  to  his  prin- 
ciples, that  he  would  forget  to  laugh  after  dinner,  if 
it- was  a  question  of  defending  them. 

I  have  told  of  the  subprefecture  that  he  so  in- 
dignantly refused,  December  5th,  1851.  At  that 
time,  he  did  not  have  an  overcoat  for  winter. 

In  private,  Lamartine  always  spoke  with  pleasure 
of  what  Bruys  d'Ouilly  cost  him.  He  considered  it 
his  duty  to  provide  for  him.  If  Bruys  had  been  the 
incarnation  of  ingratitude,  instead  of  one  of  the  best 
friends  in  the  world,  Lamartine  would  have  done  the 
same  for  him.  His  genius  had  caprices  ;  his  heart, 
none. 

One  afternoon  we  mounted  our  horses  to  go  and 


LEON  BRUYS  D'OUILLY. 


295 


see  our  friend,  who  had  secluded  himself  for  several 
years  in  a  farm-house  at  Vergisson.  Lamartine  was 
going  to  do  a  kind  act,  and  he  commenced  by  a  prac- 
tical joke.  I  was  a  very  good  horseman,  thanks  to 
long  legs  and  much  practice.  Lamartine  had  several 
horses,  but  he  chose  to  send  me  a  mare — having  all 
the  abandon  of  a  greyhound,  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances not  a  disagreeable  quality,  but  disadvanta- 
geous when  one  desired  to  give  his  whole  attention 
to  listening.  I  utilized  the  caracoles  of  my  steed  as 
punctuation  marks,  and  succeeded  in  losing  nothing 
of  the  conversation. 

It  is  a  charming  road  along  the  rocks  of  the  Ver- 
gisson, and  recalls  the  Italian  windings  of  the  Cor- 
niche. 

We  passed  by  the  house  of  a  beautiful  and  excel- 
lent lady,  Mme.  de  S ,  who  had  been  maid-of- 

honor  to  the  Queen  of  Portugal.  She  was  standing 
behind  the  gate,  in  all  the  radiance  of  her  youth,  sur- 
rcrnded  by  her  children. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  said  she  to  Lamartine. 

"  I  am  going  to  see  if  I  can  give  as  much  pleas- 
ure to  the  heart,  as  you  do  to  the  eyes,"  he  replied. 

"  You  do  not  come  to  see  us  often  enough,  M. 
de  Lamartine,  so  we  come  to  the  road,  every  day,  to 
stop  you  for  a  moment.  We  never  shall  be  tired 
waiting  for  you." 

She  kept  her  word  faithfully.     She  waited  for  him 


296  •  LAMA R TINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

on  his  way  to  Saint-Point.  Not  many  years  after, 
when,  with  so  much  grief,  the  sad  cortege  carried 
back  all  that  remained  of  his  glory,  it  met  the  tomb 
of  her  who  had  so  fascinated  us  by  her  wondrous 
grace. 

We  arrived  at  Vergisson.  Leon  occupied  a  lit- 
tle dilapidated  room  in  a  vintager's  cottage,  which 
one  of  his  relations  had  lent  him,  and  where  they 
used  to  go  for  the'vintage.  In  the  autumn,  the  rains 
dripped  through  the  old  roof  upon  the  bed,  and  in 
winter,  the  cold  north  winds  filled  the  room  with 
smoke,  but  nothing  disturbed  the  serenity  and  resig- 
nation of  its  occupant.  He,  who  once  adorned  the 
fine  suits  of  Chevreuil,  now  wore  an  old  patched 
blouse.  He  preserved  a  remnant  of  luxury  in  his 
destitution,  and  brought  from  his  closet  cigarettes 
of  Mount  Carmel  tobacco,  given  to  him  by  a  pilgrim, 
in  the  days  of  his  wealth.  His  only  recreation  was 
an  occasional  day  of  hunting,  with  a  neighbor,  to 
whom  his  coming  had  been  a  good  fortune. 

"  How  do  you  occupy  yourself,  now  ?  "  said  La- 
martine. 

Bruys  colored. 

He  had  commenced  his  fourth  enterprise. 

"  I  am  writing  a  poem,"  said  he,  "  and  when  it  is 
published  I  shall  be  able  to  pay  all  my  debts.  I  have 
already  written  twelve  thousand  lines." 

He  evidently  felt  that  there  was  no  illusion  in  the 


LEON  BRUYS  D'OUILLY.  2$7 

value  of  his  poetical  conceptions  ;  but  the  noble  per 
sistency  with  which  he  demanded  his  living  from 
music,  paintingj  poetry,  and  all  the  high  arts,  made 
him  mistake  his  courage  for  success,  and  his  visions 
for  bank-bills.  Lamartine  knew,  very  well,  that  he 
would  be  the  future  editor  of  the  poem.  He  wanted 
to  reward  the  recluse  at  once,  and  he  insisted  upon 
hearing  a  few  of  the  cantos.  The  measure,  limpid 
and  graceful,  was  traced  in  the  Lamartinian  style, 
but  lacked  decided  color. 

Lamartine  never  raised  his  eyebrows,  though  he 
could  not  help  seeing  that  he  had  been,  as  it  were, 
washed  out.  Bruys  was  writing  at  the  rate  of  three 
hundred  lines  a  day. 

"  And  when  you  are  tired  of  writing  these  sweet 
things,  what  do  you  do  with  the  rest  of  your  time  ? '' 
said  Lamartine,  "  I  shall  be  as  needy  as  you  some 
day,  my  dear  friend,  and  I  come  to  Vergisson  to 
study  a  plan  of  practical  philosophy." 

"  The  peasants  come  into  the  court  in  the  even- 
ing, and  I  put  a  candle  on  the  cask,  and  read  Lamar- 
tine to  them." 

"  Do  they  understand  ?  "  asked  the  author  of 
"  Jocelyn." 

"  I  only  give  them  what  relates  to  politics.  I 
explain  the  Republic  to  them.  I  recall  fragments  of 
your  speeches,  and  weave  them  into  my  own.  I 
demonstrate  to  them,  in  my  way,  or  I  might  almost 


298 


LAM 'AR TINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


dare  to  say  in  your  way,  that  the  cultivation  of  the 
vine,  the  comfort  and  well-being  of  the  peasant,  peace 
in  the  household,  and,  in  fact,  the  whole  conduct  of 
life,  is  in  the  Republic,  which  alone  can  assure  Order. 
I  advise  them  to  think  more  of  God,  and  less  of  their 
priests.  I  compose  songs  for  them,  always  telling  of 
Liberty.  By  the  votes  of  the  community  at  the  next 
election,  you  will  see  whether  or  not  I  have  suc- 
ceeded." 

Very  soon  after,  we  heard  the  sound  of  voices 
and  sabots  in  the  street.  Our  horses  had  attracted 
the  vintagers  at  work  on  the  hill-side,  and  it  was  soon 
noised  abroad,  that  Lamartine  had  come  to  see  his 
friend.  The  court  could  not  contain  a  great  many, 
but  it  was  filled.  Old  and  young  assembled,  to  see 
Lamartine  come  out.  They  did  not  dare  to  call 
him.  He  did  not  wait,  but  went  at  once,  to  satisfy 
an  affectionate  curiosity. 

It  was  not  an  occasion  for  a  speech,  which  under 
any  circumstance,  Lamartine  disliked.  He  shook 
hands  with  them,  and  said  a  few  words  which  I  have 
remembered. 

"  My  friends,  you  have  sacrificed  your  time  to 
come  and  see  me.  You  leave  the  plough  and  spade, 
to  come  to  a  man,  who  has  also  tried  to  work  with  a 
useful  instrument,  and  who  spends  his  time  in  clearing 
other  fields  than  these,  but  which  belong  to  you,  as 
well.  You  are  told,  that  the  Republic  is  a  sacrifice. 


L£ON  BR  UYS  D'O  UILL  Y.  299 

It  is  also  a  recompense.  We  sacrifice  to  it,  what  we 
call  our  luxuries.  You  must  sacrifice  your  distrusts. 
Be  no  longer  suspicious  of  the  rich  !  Let  them  not 
be  to  you  as  the  bronze  men  of  the  fountains  in 
the  public  gardens,  that  spout  water  alone  from  their 
open  mouths!  Instead  of  water  we  often  shed  our 
blood.  But  what  of  that !  The  recompense  I  mean, 
is  Liberty  for  all.  the  perfection  of  Order.  Labor 
under  the  eye  of  God.  Fraternity, — the  Republic. 
Let  your  hearts  seek  to  intertwine  like  the  vines  you 
cultivate,  on  the  hills,  and  in  future  seasons,  there 
shall  come  forth  from  the  fruit  of  brotherly-love,  the 
clear  pure  wine  of  Liberty  !  " 

He  almost  forgot  his  simple  audience,  and  was 
talking  philosophy  to  Bruys  and  me.  The  sun  was 
setting  as  he  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  away,  amid 
the  benedictions  of  the  crowd.  He  did  not  spoil  the 
day  by  leaving  any  gold. 

His  kindness  followed  Bruys,  even  to  installing 
him  in  a  little  house  at  Macon.  He  varied  his 
manner  of  contributing.  Sometimes  he  sent  strangers 
to  buy  pictures  of  the  noble  artist,  as  if  for  them- 
selves, at  unheard-of  prices  ;  at  other  times  he  boldly 
carried  his  money,  that  he  pretended  to  have  saved 
from  the  remains  of  his  fortune,  and  said  that  he 
would  be  glad  to  have  it  again,  when  Bruys,  whose 
reputation  had  now  begun,  had  earned  all  the  money 
he  wanted. 


3OO  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

This  dear  friend  won  his  place  above  by  his  cheerful 
resignation,  his  persevering  patriotism,  and  by  his 
light-heartedness.  In  spite  of  tragic  experiences 
which  would  have  been  crushing  to  any  one  else,  he 
was  a  living  proof  that  God  sometimes  creates  truly 
happy  beings. 

Bruys  died  just  as  a  small  inheritance  was  com- 
ing to  him.  He  was  admirable  to  the  last  moment, 
and  descended  to  the  tomb,  surrounded  by  the  aure- 
ole of  his  master,  who  was  holding  his  hand. 

Undoubtedly,  he  left  behind  a  track  furrowed  by 
his  many  levities,  but  he  never  had  a  hostile  thought, 
and  never  said  a  bitter  word.  Twenty  years  of  his 
life  he  gave  to  the  Republic,  and  whoever  has  done 
that,  has  loved  much,  and  to  him  shall  much  be  for 
given. 


XXI 

Last    Years. 

~T~  ET  us  return  to  rue  de  la  Ville  1'Eveque  and  to 
-i-J  those  last  years.  The  little  house  has  seen 
many  joys,  and  hidden  many  sorrows.  Bailiffs,  and 
physicians  with  their  ineffectual  remedies  have  come 
at  all  times.  It  was  between  those  walls,  dilapidated 
like  himself,  that  this  grand  life,  full  of  heroism  and 
nobility,  was  to  gradually  crumble  in  sorrow,  and 
almost  humiliation. 

The  wind  that  whistled  around  the  corners  of  the 
streets  brought  there  and  found  there  only  lamen- 
tations. 

Lamartine  went  there  to  live  about  the  close  of 
1849.  It  was  a  narrow  cottage,  in  the  rear  of  a  dark 
court.  There  was  a  door,  on  a  level  with  the  pave- 
ment, opening  into  a  contracted  vestibule,  on  one  side 
of  which,  was  a  spiral  staircase,  leading  to  the  only 
story.  On  the  other  side,  was  an  apartment,  once  a 
conservatory,  now  transformed  into  an  office,  where, 
for  eighteen  years,  M.  and  Mme.  Cresset  kept  the 
books,  registered  the  subscriptions  and  the  numbers 
of  the  "Cours  familier  de  Litterature."  Crossing  a 
dining-room,  so  dismal  that  it  was  never  used,  one 


3Q2  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

reached  the  modest  parlor,  which  became  grand, 
when  Lamartine  was  the  host.  Beyond  this  was  a 
boudoir  that  an  easel  entirely  filled,  and  at  the  left 
hand,  was  a  little  hall  where  the  meals  were  served. 

The  only  luxury  attached  to  the  house,  was  a  lit- 
tle garden,  where  Lamartine  had  twenty  feet  of  green 
grass,  for  playing  with  his  dogs.  At  first,  the  sun 
used  to  shine  upon  the  house,  but  afterwards  the  im- 
provements to  the  Hotel  Beauveau,  now  ministry  of 
the  interior,  threw  the  shadow  upon  this  poor  little 
corner  of  light. 

The  poet  took  frequent  rambles,  but  no  longer 
found  poetical  inspirations,  nor  did  the  orator  find 
any  more  orations. 

He  never  came  into  that  house,  followed  by  the 
demonstrations  and  acclamations,  which  are  re-iter- 
ated in  the  great  enthusiasm  of  his  words  and  writ- 
ings. 

In  leaving  rue  de  1'Universite',  he  left  his  glory. 
Those  who  knew  him  only  at  rue  de  la  Villa  1'Eveque, 
never  knew  the  real  Lamartine. 

He  was  haunted  by  one  thought ;  to  be  free  from 
debt.  The  vinedressers  of  Monceaux,  to  whom  he 
owed  much,  and  could  not  pay,  came,  constantly, 
like  spectres  before  him.  He  forgot  that  he  had 
enriched  them  by  his  liberality,  as  well  as  by  his  ac- 
quisitions, and  always  imagined  that  he  should  see 
them  coming  to  Paris,  with  his  bank-bills  in  their 


MME.  DE  LAMARTINE.  303 

hands,  and  from  this  vain  hope,  came  those  financial 
combinations,  which,  finally  exhausted  him. 

Mme.  de  Lamartine  never  left  the  bleeding  path. 
She  was  associated  with  her  husband  in  work,  literary 
research,  and  in  the  sacrifice  of  her  fortune.  Her 
admiration  led  her  to  liberality.  She  did  not  ques- 
tion whether  there  were  absolute  necessities,  or  fool- 
ish caprices.  After  a  few  years,  feeling  that  nothing 
could  close  a  gulf  kept  open  by  hazardous  specula- 
tions, she  ceased  to  trouble  herself  about  the  future, 
and  gave  no  more  advice.  Her  counsels  were  much 
missed,  for  she  possessed  an  unerring  judgment. 
She  devoted  her  time  to  painting  and  sculpture. 
For  the  chimney-piece  in  the  house  of  the  Bois-de- 
Boulogne,  given  them  by  the  Muncipality,  she 
painted  a  series  of  medallions  of  distinguished  poets 
that  were  worthy  of  a  master.  She  renounced  her 
luxuries  with  simplicity  and  grace.  She  was  several 
years  older  than  Lamartine,  and  old  age  marked  her 
earlier. 

She  did  not  lack  courage  to  grow  old  gracefully, 
but  she  did  not  want  to  be  bent,  nor  to  have  white 
hair. 

She  was  always  expecting  that  some  political 
catastrophe  would  proscribe  them,  and  kept  brave 
and  active,  ready  for  the  long  journey.  Her  health, 
always  delicate,  succumbed  in  the  struggle  against 
the  invasion  of  age. 


304  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

The  drawing-room  of  rue  de  la  Ville  1'Eveque 
was  well  filled  every  evening  by  dear  friends,  and 
often  strangers  who  desired  to  be  presented.  Lam- 
artine  would  say  a  few  words  in  English  or  Italian, 
Mme.  de  Lamartine  was  always  present,  but  no  longer 
directed  the  conversation,  even  when  sleep  overtook 
the  master  of  the  house.  She  reserved  herself 
for  the  correspondence.  Ronchaud,  Alexandre,  M. 
d'Esgrigny  have  many  letters  of  those  last  years, 
showing  how  brightly  the  pale  flame  burned  in  that 
soul. 

She  died  in  Paris  in  1867. 

Her  sickness  was  long,  and  painful  in  its  last 
stages.  Lamartine  was  fastened  to  his  bed  by  the 
iron  bands  of  rheumatism.  The  nurse  went  from 
one  bed  to  the  other.  The  two  chambers  were  sep- 
arated by  a  hall,  and  not  a  word  of  parting  was  ex- 
changed. The  death  agony  warned  Lamartine  of 
what  was  passing. 

I  saw  him  the  next  day  still  in  bed.  The  attend- 
ants were  closing  the  coffin.  No  tears  shone  in  his 
firm  eyes,  nor  did  his  voice  tremble  when  he  told 
me  of  the  death,  but  his  brief  words  told  more  pow- 
erfully than  tears,  the  void  left  in  his  heart,  and  the 
ties  of  heroic  friendship  that  had  been  broken. 

Sobs  could  not  have  moved  one  so  much  as 
these  stony  words.  Although  the  family  was  still 
very  numerous,  Mile.  Valentine  de  Cessiat  Lamar- 


LAST  DAYS. 


305 


tine,  the  niece  of  whom  I  have  already  spoken,  took 
her  aunt's  position,  and  moreover,  continued  the 
task  in  correcting  proofs  and  writing-  from  dictation. 
Lamartine  had  always  held  the  pen  himself,  but  now 
he  frequently  left  it  in  the  beautiful  hand  of  Mile. 
Valentine,  who  carried  her  pious  flattery  even  to 
imitating  his  hand-writing.  Sometimes,  now,  when 
I  have  the  pleasure  of  receiving  a  letter  from  her, 
I  tremble.  Lamartine  seems  to  live  again,  and 
sends  me  one  of  his  morning  notes. 

I  have  searched  my  memory  so  as  not  to  omit 
anything  I  know  of  Lamartine.  I  should  feel  re- 
proached to  leave  on  the  path  a  single  souvenir, 
without  piously  raising  it.  I  have  said  that  I  should 
show  the  true  Lamartine,  and  I  am  sure  that  truth 
cannot  destroy  his  nobleness.  I  trample  in  the  dust 
of  his  feet,  to  the  exhaustion  of  my  forces. 

One  evening  he  was  more  thoughtful  and  dejected 
than  usual.  The  little  parlor  was  empty.  The  visi- 
tors had  not  yet  arrived.  I  had  asked  several  ques- 
tions, and  only  received  monosyllabic  replies.  I  an- 
ticipated a  domestic  catastrophe,  and  though  fearing 
that  my  interest  might  be  indiscreet,  I  could  not 
remain  in  an  uncertainty,  so  scarcely  daring  to  make 
myself  heard,  I  said,  "  What  is  the  matter  with 
you  ?" 

"  I  have  come  to  a  perplexing  problem,"  said  he. 


306  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

"  I  am  troubled  by  a  question  that  my  conscience 
cannot  answer.     I  have  never  been  been  so   puzzled 
by  any  woman,  as  I  am  by  this  man." 
i        "  What  man?  " 

"  A  perfect  man,  and  yet  lacking.  An  Evange- 
list and  a  Helvetius;  Victor  Schoelcher.'' 

I  was  acquainted  with  the  man.  I  bowed,  Lam- 
artine  rose.  Action  was  necessary  to  him,  to  shake 
off  an  impression. 

"  He  came  to  me  with  his  noble  brow  and  pleas- 
ant face,"  said  Lamartine.  "  I  had  never  met  him. 
He  told  me  of  his  life,  as  a  republican  and  apostle. 
He  marches  as  straight  along  his  road,  as  if  he  were 
guided  by  a  star.  He  has  done  more  for  the  amel- 
ioration of  the  black  race,  than  Wilberforce,  Louis 
Blanc,  or  I,  or  all  of  the  Provisionary  government 
together.  He  has  lived  a  life  of  self-forgetfulness, 
justice  is  his  respiration  ;  sacrifice  his  action  and 
right  his  word.  Every  inflection  makes  one  think 
of  heaven.  The  saints  and  martyrs  have  not  had 
more  charity  than  he.  I  was  moved  to  the  very 
depths  of  my  soul,  in  listening  to  him.  I  took  his 
hands  in  mine,  and  thanked  him  for  doing  so  much 
for  God.  "  I  am  a  Materialist,"  said  he,  "  and  I  do 
not  believe  in  God."  Then  he  went  away,  leaving 
me  in  an  inexplicable  state  of  wonder.  Can  a  man 
draw  so  much  virtue  from  himself?  Is  it  natural  to 
work  so  conscientiously  for  a  Divine  master  and  still 


VICTOR  SCHCELCHER. 


307 


ignore  Him?  Is  it  not  an  attempt  to  make  his 
merit  a  blasphemy?  Is  God  indifferent  if  actions 
prove  what  the  lip  denies  ?  Why  this  exception  ? 
Absolute  negation  leads  as  directly  to  servitude  as 
the  Zuyder-Zee  leads  to  the  North  Pole.  Caesarism 
has  its  recruits,  already  formed  in  regiments,  in  the 
army  of  the  atheists. 

"  And  they  are  legion  !  I  am  not  anxious  about 
eternal  morality,  which  always  will  float,  but  it  is  for 
the  Republic  of  the  future,  that  I  tremble.  The  Re- 
public is  the  ideal  of  Justice,  and  the  workmen  of 
Nature  alone,  will  never  build  the  Holy  City.  From 
the  marshes  of  Materialism,  there  will  come  forth 
twenty  Marats  for  every  Schcelcher.  Never  has  my 
admiration  for  one  been  so  wounded !  Still  after  an 
hour's  conversation,  I  love  and  admire  him,  and  I 
would  like  to  give  him  a  part  of  my  soul,  or  rather, 
for  he  has  a  soul  of  his  own — working  continually,  I 
would  like  to  make  that  soul  burst  forth  from  his  lips, 
by  the  liberation  of  his  virtues,"  Lamartine  fell  sor- 
rowfully back  into  his  chair. 

Those  who  came  that  evening  found  him  very 
silent.  His  preoccupation  lasted  for  some  hours, 
though  usually,  he  came  quickly  out  of  himself. 

Schcelcher  had  irritated  and  charmed  him  at  the 
same  time.  I  remembered  this  conversation,  when, 
at  the  National  Assembly,  I  had  the  honor  of  sitting 
by  this  philosopher,  who  has  not  changed  in  his  char- 


308  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

ity  or  scepticism.  If  I  feel  doubtful  in  regard  to  any 
question,  I  go  to  him,  knowing  where  to  find  a  true 
solution.  His  conscience  is  more  than  just;  it  has  a 
warmth  drawn  from  a  celestial  source.  Schcelcher 
pardons  me  for  being  a  spiritualist,  as  I  pardon  him 
for  being  a  priest  without  knowing  it  ;  a  priest  in 
the  highest  sense,  separated  from  all  symbols,  and 
though  denying  God,  taking  his  stand  with  Jesus 
Christ.  If  the  spirit  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount 
comes  into  the  Assembly,  at  Versailles,  I  am  sure 
that  it  rests  more  upon  those  who  ask  for  amnesty, 
than  upon  those  who  do  not. 

My  other  assqciate  and  friend,  Laurent  Pichat, 
came  to  Lamartine  about  this  same  time.  He  was 
one  of  the  directors  of  the  "  Revue  de  Paris,"  with 
Maxime  du  Camp,  and  Louis  Ulbach.  The  editor- 
ship, in  those  strong  poetic  hands,  met  all  the  politi- 
cal aspirations,  ennobling  them  in  exciting  them  to 
action. 

Every  copy  of  the  review  sent  forth  a  light,  like 
the  aurora  of  the  future  Republic. 

Pichat  had  just  written  an  enthusiastic  article 
apropos  of  a  demonstration  that  the  schools  wanted 
to  make  in  honor  of  Lamartine,  so  Lamartine  invited 
him  to  come  and  see  him. 

"  My  only  consolation  for  never  having  met  Ar- 
mand  Carrel,  has  been  the  hope,  that,  some  day,  I 
should  see  you,"  said  he,  when  he  met  Lamartine. 


LA  UREX  T  PICHA  T. 


309 


"  By  your  character,  and  talent,  you  are  one  of  the 
forces  of  the  Democracy,  and  you  bring  Carrel  back 
to  us." 

The  conversation  begun  by  this  justifiable  parallel, 
soon  embraced  all  topics.  I  do  not  know  how  it  hap- 
pened to  float  from  music  to  dogs. 

On  the  subject  of  music,  Lamartine  went  through 
the  whole  scale  of  his  eloquence. 

"  If  I  could  obtain  the  gift  of  measuring  my  fac- 
ulties by  my  aspirations,  I  would  ask  to  be  made  a 
great  musician,"  said  he.  "  The  language  of  words 
has  always  seemed  lacking  to  me,  to  render  the  reso- 
nance and  color  of  all  that  vibrates  within  us.  The 
language  of  sound  is  infinite.  Speech  reaches  only 
a  certain  height,  and  falls  back  upon  the  speaker. 
A  musical  sound  goes  beyond  the  horizon,  and 
draws  the  singer  into  the  sky.  The  alphabet  is 
soon  exhausted.  The  orchestra  has  no  limit. 
Music  can  do  without  translators.  I  would  give  a 
thousand  '  Lacs '  for  one  '  Pastorale.'  If  I  repeat 
a  rhyme,  Fido  goes  to  sleep  ;  if  I  sing  a  line, 
Fido  understands  me,  and  howls,  for  I  sing  out  of 
time." 

Then  Lamartine  came  to  one  of  his  dearest  texts, 
"  intelligence  of  animals." 

"  I  always  carry  a  piece  of  sugar  in  my  pocket 
for  my  dogs,"  he  continued.     "This  morning  in  tak- 
ing my  bath,  I  left  my  pantaloons  on  the  floor.     Fido 


3IO  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

sniffed  at  them,  put  his  nose  into  the  pocket  on  the 
right  side,  and  found  nothing.  This  first  movement 
was  only  instinct.  That  is  true.  Now  wait  for  the 
second.  Fido  reflects.  He  remembers  that  there  is 
a  second  pocket.  He  turns  the  pantaloons  over, 
finds  the  other  pocket,  and  is  rewarded.  Are  there 
many  men  who  would  know  as  well  as  this  animal, 
how  to  reflect  upon  the  situations,  and  turn  the 
pockets?  " 

I  give  this  example  among  thousands,  to  show 
how  many  charms,  and  happy  surprises,  there  were 
in  Lamartine's  familiar  conversation. 

I  can  scarcely  believe  that  his  presence  is  not  in 
the  National  Assembly  with  his  disciples,  who  are 
leading  his  Republic,  and  trying  to  make  it  immor- 
tal. I  feel  sure  that  his  influence  guides  our  hands 
towards  the  ballot-box,  where  France  is. 

Lamartine  continued  to  give  occasional  dinners, 
in  spite  of  his  reduced  circumstances.  I  was  seldom 
invited,  for  the  table  was  small,  and  there  were  always 
many  obligations  to  satisfy  in  Paris.  We  were  over- 
whelmed with  his  hospitality  during  the  summer  and 
autumn,  at  Saint-Point,  and  at  Monceaux. 

I  once  said  to  him,  that  I  had  seldom  seen  Alex- 
ander Dumas,  pere  ;  so  he  invited  me  with  one  of  our 
neighbors  to  meet  the  author  of  "  Monte-Cristo." 
There  was  also  an  ex-consul,  an  intimate  friend  of 


DUMAS,  PERE.  jH 

Stendhal,  and  a  journalist,  who  did  not  keep  his  wit 
for  his  newspaper. 

Lamartine  was  very  entertaining.  He  roused 
himself  from  his  engrossing  cares,  and  shared  his 
"  verve  "  with  his  guests.  I  have  never  understood 
so  well  the  particular  charm  and  attraction  of  the 
table  reunions  among  the  Romans,  or  the  "  petits 
soupers,"  of  the  i8th  century.  Dumas  gave  the 
material  of  a  whole  new  volume  of  impressions  of 
travel.  His  great  sonorous  laugh  was  a  cordial  and 

o  o 

a  delight.  His  witticisms  flowed  from  him,  as  natu- 
rally as  the  ruddy  juice  from  the  grapes.  We  only 
asked  him  not  to  restrain  himself.  Mile.  Valentine 
was  present,  and  he  did  not  pass  the  limit  of  pro- 
priety. Lamartine  could  not  permit  himself  to  be 
surpassed  in  this  contest  of  wit.  He  was  as  amus- 
ing as  if  Voltaire,  Benjamin  Constant,  and  Mme.  de 
Stae'l  had  spoken  through  his  lips.  He  seemed  to 
forget  that  the  Republic  was  dead. 

Stendhal's  friend  and  the  journalist  were  men  of 
spontaneity,  yet  they  could  only  send  back  their 
approbation  by  their  affectionate  mirth  and  ges- 
tures. 

My  neighbor,  who  passed  most  of  his  time  in  the 
village  library,  understood  all  that  was  said,  for  they 
spoke  the  true  French  language.  I  deplore  the  loss 
of  so  many  pearls  thrown  away  in  the  Lethean  waters 
of  my  memory. 


312  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

I  would  have  given  much  to  have  taken  notes  of 
that  event. 

Contrary  to  the  habits  of  the  house,  the  dinner 
was  prolonged,  and  the  little  garden  was  already  en- 
veloped in  darkness,  when  we  entered  the  parlor. 
The  windows  were  thrown  open,  and  cigars  lighted. 
One  of  Dumas'  faults  was,  not  to  smoke.  He  brought 
up  many  great  examples  for  his  defense,  and  chose, 
inconsistently,  among  others,  Napoleon,  who  belonged 
to  a  generation  of  snuff-takers.  Then,  leaving  his 
anecdotes,  he  departed  at  once  in  a  bold  panegyric 
upon  the  conqueror. 

Lamartine  became  serious  at  once.  There  were 
certain  questions  to  which  he  could  not  be  indifferent. 
No  one  touched  his  moral  religion  without  a  pro- 
test. I  have  always  suspected  that  Dumas  wanted 
to  rest,  and  challenged  a  speech  to  aid  his  diges- 
tion. 

He  obtained  it. 

Lamartine  blamed  Dumas,  as  he  constantly  did 
Beranger,  for  having  written  for  the  Empire.  He 
could  forgive  anything  but  that.  He  always  said 
that  M.  de  Sade  had  done  less  harm  to  humanity,  in 
writing  Justine,  than  General  Foy,  by  saluting  the 
"  Column  "  so  frequently.  He  believed  that  Saint- 
Helene  had  been  a  too  gentle  expiation  for  so  many 
violations.  He  raised  the  hero's  laurels,  and  found 
beneath  the  brutal  crimes  of  misery,  and  insincerity, 


DUMAS  P£RE. 


313 


He  could  not  admit  any  extenuating  circumstances, 
for  him,  who  had  trampled  out  the  breath  of  the  Re- 
public, under  the  heels  of  his  grenadiers.  He  saw, 
standing  before  the  justice  of  God,  a  man  clothed  in 
hideous  purple,  who  had  emptied  the  sluices  of  peace, 
for  which  so  many  streams  of  blood  had  flowed,  and 
he  declared  that  nothing  could  purchase  the  pardon 
of  the  assassin,  and  that  Cartouche  should  have 
granted  mercy  to  the  Due  d'Enghien. 

He  demolished  the  prodigious  Dumas,  piece  by 
piece,  as  if  he  had  been  a  minister,  and  an  accomplice 
of  Bonaparte. 

Dumas  had  the  modesty  not  to  reply. 

He  carried  away  his  page  of  history  fastened  to  him. 

However,  he  was  not  willing  to  rest  under  the 
malediction  of  Demosthenes.  The  good  fellow  found 
that  there  was  nothing  to  do,  and  after  a  few  face- 
tious remarks,  scarcely  relevant,  he  managed  to 
effect  his  escape,  first  poking  Lamartine  in  the  ribs, 
and  saying,  "  Farceur !  " 

I  ask  Dumas'  pardon,  but  this  is  the  truth. 

This  was  the  last  time  that  I  saw  Lamartine  in 
the  full  possession  of  his  faculties.  His  exquisite 
goodness  remained,  but  the  oil  in  the  lamp  was  grad- 
ually diminishing.  Occasional  gleams  flashed  forth, 
but  they  grew  more  and  more  rare. 

The  slow  work  of  disorganization  had  commenced 
in  this  homeric  brain. 


314  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

I  could  not  believe  in  such  a  great  misfortune. 
I  often  went  to  rue  de  la  Ville  1'Eveque,  knowing 
that  the  morning  hours  were  clear,  and  that  he  was 
writing  those  remarkable  "  Memoires,"  which  ap- 
peared last  year. 

He  was  inclined  to  absent-mindedness,  and  was 
very  silent.  At  the  sight  of  those  statuesque  fea- 
tures, and  those  deep  penetrating  eyes,  and  hearing 
again  the  harmonious  accents  of  his  voice,  I  became 
hopeful  that  by  some  unexpected  effort  he  would 
revive. 

I  remember  a  sad  circumstance.  I  had  been  im- 
pressed by  the  biblical  color  of  the  life  of  Mahomet, 
in  his  beautiful  "  Histoire  de  la  Turquie."  I  thought 
that  it  contained  the  elements  of  a  great  religious 
opera. 

Kaasbah,  the  mountain  of  Koran,  the  War  of  the 
Faith,  the  Passion,  and-  Paradise,  all  that,  was  heroic 
and  emotional,  fascinated  me.  Music  trembled  in 
every  page.  I  read  it  to  my  friend  Vaucorbeil,  who 
is  an  artist. 

I  versified  the  text. 

Vaucorbeil  took  a  year  and  a  half  to  write  the 
music  for  it.  What  it  is,  will  be  known  some  future 
day,  for  it  is  impossible  that  the  half-open  doors  of 
the  Opera  shall  not  entirely  open  to  receive  this  im- 
passioned and  majestic  music. 

I  do  not  believe  that  any  subject  has  ever  lent 


VAUCORBEIL:  S  VISIT. 


315 


more  to  the  fancy,  sadness,  and  exuberance  of  har- 
monious inspiration,  nor  do  I  believe  that  Vaucorbeil 
has  failed  in  his  different  interpretations. 

After  the  libretto  was  finished,  conventionality 
demanded  that  we  should  ask  Lamartine's  consent. 

I  told  him  of  my  attempt.  He  was  enthusiastic, 
and  proposed  writing  more  verses,  if  I  needed  them. 
I  am  sorry  now  that  I  did  not  accept.  I  asked  per- 
mission to  bring  Vaucorbeil,  whom  he  had  met  at 
Jules  Le  Fevre's. 

The  visit  was  arranged,  for  the  next  day. 

There  was  an  air  of  mystery  in  our  introduction 
to  the  house.  Lamartine  kept  us  waiting  a  long 
time.  What  had  happened !  Had  he  had  a 
stroke  ? 

Vaucorbeil  and  I  walked  up  and  down  the  little 
garden,  commenting  upon  the  singularity  of  the  de- 
tention. , 

At  last,  Lamartine,  more  carefully  dressed  than 
usual,  came  to  the  door  of  the  drawing-room.  Mile. 
Valentine,  who  had  supported  him  so  far,  disappeared 
in  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun.  Lamartine  advanced 
to  meet  us,  and  led  us  to  seats.  He  fell  back  into  his 
chair,  as  if  exhausted.  He  thanked  us  quietly,  for 
the  honor  we  desired  to  do  him,  in  carrying  into 
Opera  the  character  of  Mahomet,  as  he  had  seen 
him.  I  expressed  my  admiration  for  the  traits  of 
gentleness  and  humanity,  he  had  given  to  the  phys- 


316  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

iognomy  of  the  Prophet,  in  which  Voltaire  had  dis- 
covered only  the  false  mask  of  fanaticism.  He 
accepted  the  investiture,  with  a  smile. 

.  Vaucorbeil  explained  the  color,  so  to  speak,  of 
the  music  he  was  going  to  make,  and,  that  the  tints 
should  be  exact,  he  questioned  the  poet  upon  his 
travels  in  the  Orient.  He  had  an  attractive  and 
picturesque  way  of  asking  questions.  The  replies 
were  few,  but  it  was  not  for  lack  of  good-will.  That 
dazzling  and  rapid  talker  in  every  form  of  language, 
sought  sadly  for  expression.  The  chord  had  been 
over-strained  and  vibrated  no  longer.  He  listened 
to  us,  but  our  own  sentences  were  broken  by  the  sad 
contemplation  of  his  helpless  attitude. 

We  struck  the  golden  bell  in  vain. 

To  prolong  the  conversation  was  a  fatigue  for  all 
of  us,  and  when  we  rose  to  come  away,  there  came 
over  his  face  an  expression  of  relief.  He  was  no 
longer  restrained  by  efforts,  whose  powerlessness  was 
comprehensible  to  him.  He  found  a  happy  word  to 
say  at  parting. 

Vaucorbeil  said,  "  If  we  are  successful  in  obtain- 
ing a  representation,  you  will  do  us  the  honor  of  as- 
sisting at  the  opening  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Lamartine,  with  a  tinge  of 
melancholy,  "  but  I  shall  assist  from  the  paradise  of 
Mahomet." 

There    were    tears    in   Vaucorbeil's   eyes   as    he 


VAUCORBEIL'S  VISIT. 


crossed    the   court.     He    had    not   seen    Lamartine 
since  those  grand  days  of  the  Hotel-de-Ville. 

There  remained  a  long  line  of  friends  to  follow 
this  mournful  spectacle.  Ronchaud,  Chamborran, 
Texier,  Louis  Ulbach,  D'Esgrigny,  Rolland,  Des- 
places  and  others.  We  often  met  at  Lamartine's  in 
the  evening.  Mile.  Valentine  received  the  ladies, 
who  kept  up  an  impassioned  interest.  Russians  and 
Americans  could  not  go  through  Paris  without 
saluting  Lamartine.  He  would  rise  from  his  chair, 
which  was  always  placed  in  the  corner  by  the  little 
chimney,  to  greet  them.  He  was  always  carefully 
dressed,  and  smiled  kindly  upon  all,  but  both  the 
smile  and  the  dress  seemed  imposed  upon  him. 

The  gravest  and  most  important  questions  of 
which,  once,  he  had  been  the  creator,  floated  about 
him  unheeded. 

Had  he  become  indifferent  from  his  cerebral 
weakness,  or,  had  he  already  plunged  into  the  con- 
templation of  another  world  ?  I  hold  to  the  latter 
idea,  for  sometimes  a  light  came  into  his  eyes,  and 
in  a  soft  voice,  he  murmured  words,  proving  that  he 
still  loved  us.  From  these  heart  whispers  we  dared 
to  hope. 

A  Hungarian  physician  undertook  his  restoration. 
I  do  not  know  how  he  imposed  upon  the  confidence 
of  Lamartine,  who  always  had  presence  of  mind 


318  LA  MAR  TINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

enough,  to  keep  the  doctors  away  from  his  bedside. 
Undoubtedly,  he  was  brought  by  the  pitying  hand 
of  Mile.  Valentine. 

Lamartine  did  not  rise  now  until  ten  o'clock. 
He  no  longer  read.  Even  his  pen  rested  quietly  on 
the  table.  The  doctor  thought  that  his  remedies 
would  have  more  effect  under  the  sun  at  Monceaux, 
and  in  the  early  spring-time,  ordered  Lamartine's  de- 
parture. 

But  we  all  knew  that  God  had  gently  fixed  the 
hour  for  meeting  the  soul,  which  was  no  longer  con- 
scious of  its  earthly  temple. 


XXII. 

Lamartine  s  Death. 

r  I  ^HE  Lamartine,  before  whom  I  burned  the  in- 
-L  cense  of  my  homage,  was  so  admirable  and  so 
pure,  that  I  turned  with  mournful  regret,  towards  the 
sad  image  that  remained. 

To  tell  of  those  sorrowful  days,  would  only  be  to 
relate  again  and  again  the  passionate  worship  and 
pious  prostrations  of  the  nieces.  It  was  not  per- 
mitted that  he,  who  had  recounted  so  many  won- 
derful deaths,  should  be  sensible  of  his  own. 

He  never  awoke. 

Priests  of  the  highest  intelligence  came  to  see 
him.  Pere  Hyacinthe,  who  was  then  meditating 
his  rupture  with  the  official  church,  spent  a  fortnight 
at  Saint-Point,  the  year  before,  but  Lamartine  was 
no  longer  himself.  The  cur6  of  the  Madeleine,  des- 
tined to  fall  so  soon  by  the  balls  of  the  Commune, 
in  his  efforts  for  charity  and  peace,  was  sent  for  by 
Mile.  Valentine.  No  conversation  was  possible. 
Lamartine  could  not  dispute  with  this  old  man,  who 
held  the  crucifix  over  him.  That  assimilation  was 
spared  him. 

Had  he  not  climbed  his  Calvary,  and  for  twenty 


320 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


years  had  he  not,  by  the  expanse  of  his  genius,  re- 
kindled the  extinct  fire  of  Spiritualism  in  the  souls 
of  his  generation  ?  Had  not  every  speech,  and  every 
act,  been  a  divine  lesson  ?  Would  he  not  carry  be- 
fore the  Sovereign  Master,  his  sheaf  of  virtues  and 
sacrifices,  and  would  not  the  grain  germinate  in  in- 
creasing abundance  above  ? 

He  was  also  spared  physical  pain.  His  last 
hours  were  spent  in  taking  the  seeds  from  grapes 
that  he  could  hardly  carry  to  his  mouth ;  and  in 
turning  the  leaves  of  a  picture-book,  which  he  under- 
stood less  than  a  child.  When  the  last  page  was 
finished,  he  looked  up  to  the  sky,  as  if  in  search  of 
a  star.  That  breath,  which  had  intoxicated,  forti- 
fied and  controlled  multitudes,  was  quenched  in  a 
night  of  February. 

February  !  the  grandest   month  of  his  life  ! 

It  was  also  the  month  of  his  new  birth ! 

The  seal  upon  his  lips  was  broken.  He  spoke 
elsewhere,  I  went  frequently  to  ask  for  him,  but  did 
not  enter.  The  last  time  that  I  was  there,  was  the 
day  of  his  death.  I  met  M.  Guizot  in  the  garden. 
Tears  trembled  in  his  eyes,  when  he  brought  back 
the  sad  intelligence.  Lamartine  was  so  beloved,  that 
even  those  whom  he  had  dethroned,  wept  for  him. 

The  chamber  of  death  was  thronged  with  visitors, 
all  day  long.  A  wreath  of  red  roses  shone  over  his 
head,  in  the  light  of  the  tapers.  His  face,  like 


LA  MARTINETS  DEA  777. 


321 


sculptured   marble,  breathed  the   peace  of  another 
realm. 

I  found  myself  before  the  dead  master,  with  Car- 
not,  and  Garnier-Pages, — all  that  remained  of  the 
provisionary  government.  Pelletan  knelt  there  with 
me.  I  was  not  present  at  the  obsequies,  which  took 
place  at  Saint-Point. 

The  progress  of  the  funeral  cortege,  across  a 
country  covered  with  snow,  attended  by  the  most 
illustrious  in  literature,  and  by  a  mourning  throng  of 
the  peasants,  was  followed  by  the  thought  of  France 
and  the  eyes  of  the  world. 

Lamartine  considered  an  oration  pronounced  over 
the  tomb  of  one  already  in  communion  with  God,  a 
profanation.  Once  only,  for  the  funeral  ceremony 
of  Armand  Marrast,  a  political  necessity  compelled 
him  to  break  his  rule.  He  had  forbidden  a  word 
said  over  the  earth  moved  for  him.  Many  eloquent 
words  were  unsaid.  In  one  of  his  poems,  he  says, 

"  Pleure  ton  fils,  O  ma  vallee  !  " 

The  valley  wept. 

When  the  door  of  the  tomb,  which  had  already 
received  the  mother,  wife,  and  child,  opened  for  the 
remains  of  Lamartine,  there  came  forth  clouds  of 
shadows,  filling  every  heart  with  sorrow.  Never  did 
the  spade  of  the  grave-digger  stir  the  earth  more 
deeply,  than  these  shadows  stirred  the  souls. 

The  century  lost,  at  this  time,  one  of  the  sweetest 


322 


LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


of  its  creatures.  In  him,  Genius  appeared  in  its  best 
form, — that  of  Simplicity,  and  Virtue  in  its  most 
perfect  expression, — Unconsciousness  ! 

In  his  consular  experience,  there  was  radiance 
enough  for  twenty  lives.  Poesy  owes  to  him  melodies 
that  will  be  sung  as  long  as  there  are  nightingales  to 
sing  their  love-songs  to  their  mates.  The  Tribune 

o  o 

owes  to  him  echoes  that  the  winds  can  never  destroy, 
and  History,  gems  that  rust  can  never  corrupt. 
France  owes  to  him  the  demonstration  that  the  Re- 
public was  the  necessary  government  for  her  crisis, 
preparatory  to  that  of  her  wisdom. 

And  we,  we  owe  to  him  still  more.  We  owe  the 
impossibility  to  forget  our  admiration  for  him  for  a 
single  moment. 

Cormatin,  October  and  November  1871. 

I  should  consider  my  sad  task  finished,  if  con- 
temporary questions  did  not  continually  recall  Lam- 
artine.  His  great  shadow  is  profiled  upon  all  our 
problems.  He  has  examined  them  all,  in  turn  ;  am- 
nesty, compulsory  education,  separation  of  Church 
and  State,  abolition  of  Capital  Punishment,  and  the 
legitimacy  or  crime  of  War.  At  each  turn  of  the 
road,  we  find,  standing  like  a  faithful  sentinel,  the 
written  thought  of  Lamartine.  Parliamentary  halls 
for  many  years,  will  be  the  sanctuary  of  his  ideas. 
I  often  ask  myself,  in  the  hours  of  anxious  delibera- 
tion, if  we  place  these  ideas  at  the  very  frontiers  of 


A  POSTCRIPT. 


323 


the  Republic  and  if  I  am  true  to  them.  My  con- 
science always  says.  "  You  are  doing  your  duty. 
You  go  where  his  word  sends  you." 

Then,  I  place  before  myself  two  hypotheses  : 

Lamartine,  twenty  years  younger. 

Larnartine,  in  the  fullness  of  his  age,  and  in  the 
integrity  of  his  reason. 

If  Lamartine  had  been  only  forty  years  old  at 
the  down-fall  of  the  Empire  ;  if  he  had  heard  the 
clarions  that,  sounding  for  the  War  with  Germany, 
at  the  same  time,  to  every  attentive  ear,  sounded  the 
coming  hour  of  our  disasters  ;  if  the  Republic, — pro- 
ceeding from  a  half-invested  capital,  or  from  the  foul 
treason  of  Sedan, — had  succeeded  in  rousing  him 
from  his  despair  as  citizen,  it  would  have  been  impos- 
sible not  to  have  agreed  with  the  man  of  February, 
and  events,  by  their  impulsive  force,  would  have 
sought  for  a  solution  through  him.  It  is  Lamartine, 
who  would  have  made,  through  scornful  Europe,  that 
voyage  of  dramatic  diplomacy,  which  honored  to  such 
a  degree  the  patriotic  old  age  of  M.  Thiers.  It 
is  Lamartine,  who  would  have  been  nominated  in 
twenty  departments,  as  he  had  been  in  twelve,  in  the 
year  1848. 

His  sovereign  eloquence  would  have  done  the 
rest  and  would  have  demanded  of  the  royalists  at 
Bordeaux,  to  try  through  him,  for  the  resuscitation 
of  a  dead  country.  The  discussion  of  principles 


324  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

would  not  have  been  so  long,  and  his  antecedents 
would  have  imposed  the  obligation  of  at  once  nom- 
inating him,  President  of  the  Republic. 

The  Assembly  would  not  be  placed  upon  the 
hypocritical  foundation  of  the  compact  of  Bordeaux, 
which  slips  from  under  the  feet  of  those  who  wish  to 
fly  from  it.  The  situation  would  have  been  more 
accurately  decided.  Lamartine  would  never  have 
proclaimed  that  equivoke :  a  Republic  without  Re- 
publicans. He  would  have  risen  indignantly  before 
a  loyal  trial,  that  would  have  seemed  mean  to  him, 
and  the  pressure  of  bleeding  necessities,  aided  by  his 
great  persuasive  faculties,  would  perhaps  have  forced 
the  Legitimists  of  the  assembly,  to  accept  the  reality 
of  the  saving  institution,  which  was  then,  and  which 
will  always  be,  the  Republic. 

These  premises  admitted,  I  believe  that  Lamartine 
would  have  governed  in  the  way  of  M.  Thiers,  but 
with  a  broader  Democratic  expansion.  His  policy 
was,  especially,  one  of  cohesion  of  party,  and  he 
would  have  made  an  attractive  and  reassuring  Re- 
public. He  could  not  have  put  more  enthusiasm 
into  the  difficulties  of  the  diplomacy  than  the  actual 
president,  but  he  would  have  contracted  the  field  of 
monarchical  chimeras.  He  would  have  put  his  heroic 
soul  into  the  reconstruction  of  his  country. 

If,  on  the  contrary,  the  great  citizen  had  gone 
into  Parliament,  with  the  eighty  years,  that  he  would 


A  POSTCR1PT. 


325 


have  had  to-day,  it  would  have  been  impossible  for 
him  not  to  go  and  sit  near  his  old  colleague  Louis 
Blanc,  and  the  disciples  born,  as  it  were,  from  the 
spirit  of  his  word.  The  honor  attached  to  his  name, 
that  name  inseparable  from  the  Republic — would  have 
made  the  monarchical  faults  still  more  contemptible. 

Pretenders,  who  were  only  that,  and  nothing  more, 
would  have  felt  themselves  abashed,  by  the  presence 
of  an  old  man,  whose  reputation  had  surpassed  all 
their  traditions.  Lamartine,  only  a  representative, 
but  still  a  great  man,  would  have  met  Edgar  Quinet 
on  the  road  from  which  Victor  Hugo  had  been  forced 
to  disappear  for  a  time,  and  he  would  have  seated 
himself  in  those  fertile  regions  where  centres  the  true 
Republican  vitality.  Thus,  one  with  us,  counselling 
us  to  assure  the  future  by  the  present,  he  would 
have  voted,  with  bitter  reservation,  no  doubt,  for  the 
present  President  of  the  Republic.  Every  day,  he 
would  have  made  the  most  impatient  of  us  under- 
stand that  there  was  prudence  in  sacrifice,  and  a 
strengthening  of  the  future  in  a  temporary  tolerance. 

And  he  would  have  extended  one  hand  to  M. 
Thiers,  and  the  other  to  Gambetta  at  the  same  time: 
to  one,  who  resembles  him  by  his  clearness  of  mind, 
to  the  other,  who  resembles  him  by  his  wisdom : 
and  both  in  their  great  oratorical  powers  and  good 
faith. 

So   far  as   my  humble  part  in  political  action  is 


326  LAMARTINE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

concerned,  I  feel  that  I  have  not  departed  from  the 
line  traced  by  my  master,  and  illumined  by  my  con- 
science. When  the  clerical  party  of  the  assembly 
affirms  its  deceptions  by  its  clamors,  and  its  love  for 
order  by  its  tumults,  and  when  Republican  France 
confirms  each  of  our  efforts  by  its  applause.  I  seem 
to  hear  above  our  heads,  above  all  the  noise,  the 
voice  of  Lamartine,  who  from  his  world  of  dreams, 
says  to  us,  "  You  are  in  the  perfectly-balanced  regions 
of  Truth.  You  follow  the  direction  of  the  holy,  immu- 
table compass  of  Justice,  Fraternity,  and  Progress. 
You  are  beginning  a  path  that  I  follow,  elsewhere, 
and  which  you  will  continue  with  me,  later.  You 
are  disciplining  yourselves  as  a  National  party.  Effort 
by  effort,  sacrifice  by  sacrifice,  you  bring  together 
the  torn  members  of  your  mother  country.  In  the 
burden  and  heat  of  the  summer,  you  collect  the 
materials  for  a  divine  structure  and  a  social  temple. 
March  on  with  courage.  Sacrifice  your  present 
hope  to  the  solidity  of  the  movement  of  the  future. 
Do  not  complain  if  the  tears  of  a  generation  fall  into 
the  cement  that  you  are  preparing.  They  will  make 
it  enduring.  God  is  with  all  good  workers.  God  is 
with  the  Republic." 
Paris,  April  1872. 

THE  END. 


I  N  DEX. 


Abdul-Medjid,  197. 

Academy,  position  towards  Lamar- 

tine  50. 

Adam,  Edmond,  178. 
Alexandra,  Charles,  234,  304. 
Animals,  Lamartine's  love  for,  27. 
Arago,  Emmanuel,   137,  179. 
Arago,  Etienne,   117. 
Autun,  Bishop  of,  75. 
Band-noire,  158. 
Banquet  at  Macon,  104. 
Baour-Lormian,  265. 
Barbes,  Armand,  51. 
Beaune,  M.,  124. 
Beginning  of  our  friendship,  14. 
Bel-Air,  I,  116.  [217,289. 

Beranger,   Jean    Pierre  de,  18,    47, 
Berze,  Chevalier  de,  63. 
"  Bien  Public,"  69,  105. 
Blanc,  Louis,  170. 
Blanqui,  Louis  Auguste,  51,  169. 
Boccaccio,  91. 

Bouchard,  Dr.,  133,  140.          [220. 
Bousin,    Hippolyte,    78,    133,    189, 
Briffaut,  Charles,  47. 
Bruys,  Leon,  d'Ouilly,  14,  22,  70, 

106,  130,  290. 

Bruys,  Mile.  Couronne,  266. 
Bussierem,  265. 
Camp,  Maxime,   308. 
Carnot,  M.,  321. 
Carteron,  D.,   133,  140. 
Caussidieit  Marc,  117,  124,  143. 


Cavaignac,  Louis  Eugene,  148. 
Chamborre,  M.,  193. 
Champeaux,  M.  de,  35,  54,  198. 
Champvans,  Guigue  de,  15,  70,  72 

145,  259- 

Chalon,  banquet  at,  123 
Chanorier,  M.,  133. 
Chateaubriand,  167,217. 
Chateau-Tiers,  60. 
Circourt,  Count  de,  46, 
"  Civilizateur,"  249. 
Cluny,  the  abbey  of,  9. 
Cluny,  the  destroyer  of,  10. 
Constantinople,  197. 
Convent  strategy,  206. 
Courteau,  M.,  136. 
"  Conseilleur  du  Peuple."  248. 
Cormatin,   155, 
"  Cours  de  Litterature."  209. 
Dargaud,  M.  and  Mme.,  85. 
Decaisnes,  M.,  40. 
Decourcelle,  Adrian,  213. 
Delaroche,  Hippolyte,  208. 
Delmas,  Gaetan,   104,  132. 
Deschamps,  Emile,  41. 
Desplaces,  J.  B.,  88,  317.          [317. 
D'Esgrigny,  M.  and  Mme.  53'3°4« 
Delorme,  Joseph,  212. 
Dumas,  Alexandre,  97,  310. 
Dumas,  fils,   239. 
Dumesnil,  Jules,  87. 
Duclerc,  Charles  T.  E.,  152. 
Ducuing,  M.,  176. 


328 


INDEX. 


Duhois,  Edward,  193. 

Dupont  d  1'Eure,   114,  124,  171. 

Dupont  White,  214. 

Dureault,  N.,  70,  79. 

Elvira,  70,  79.  [148. 

Falloux,    A.    F.  Pierre,  Count  de, 

Feletz,  Abbe,  47. 

Felix,  Lia.  230. 

Filles-Repenties,   141. 

Flocon,  Ferdinand,   124. 

Foillard,  M.,   133. 

Garnier-Lacombe,   70. 

Garnier-Pages,  30,  185,  321. 

Gaston  de  Lacretelle,  256. 

Gay,  Mme.  Sophie,  44. 

Gengoux,  band  of,  257. 

"Genie  du  Christianisme."  218. 

Girardin,  Mme.  de,  45,  53. 

Girardin,  Emile  de,  45. 

Gormand,  M.,  130. 

Graziella,  276. 

Grevy,  Jules,  87. 

Gudin,  M.,  208. 

Guirand,  M.,  47. 

Hotel-de-Ville,  138. 

Hotel-de-Ville,  the  group  of,   185. 

Hugo,  Victor,   18,   26,   35,  41,  48. 

128. 

Jocrisse,  121. 
Janette,  37,  61,  67. 
Janin,  Jules,  47. 
July,  i8th,  106. 

"  La  Cloche  de  Saint-Point,"  38. 
"  I. a  Chute  d'un  Ange,"  25. 
"  Le  Courrier  de  1'Europe,"  88. 
Lacretelle,  pere,  i,  116,135. 


"  Lac,"  244. 

Labor,  Charles,  238.  [200. 

La  Gueronniere,   Louis,  E.  A.,  81, 

Lamartine,  Euge'nie  de,  286. 

Lamartine,  first  view  of,  i. 

Lamartine,  Mmede,  5,  303. 

Lamartine,  Mile  Valentine  de  Ces- 
siat,  53,  202.  304. 

Lamartine's  later  'works  ;  — 
Genevieve,  Raphael, 
L'Histoire  de  la  Russe, 
Le  Civilizateur, 
L'Histoire  de  la  Restauration, 
L'Histoire  de  la  Turquie, 
Le  Conselleur  du  Peuple, 
Le  Cours  de  Litte'rature,  195. 

Lamennais,  F.  R.  abbe  de,  18,  47, 
217. 

"La  Reforme,"  75,  118.  [180. 

La  Tour,  Adolphe  de,  70,  90,  146 

Le  Fevre,  Jules,  41,  47. 

Lemaitre,  Frederick,  222. 

Lemaitre,  Charles,  222. 

Levy,  Michael,  224,  231.          [145. 

Ledru-Rollin,    Alex.    A.,  50,    124, 

"  Les  Girondins,"  101. 

Lostende,  M.  de,  135. 

"  Lucrece,"  48. 

Macon,  130. 

Maconnais,  the,  106. 

Maistre,  Count  Xavier  de,  16. 

Marrast,  Armand,  321.  ( 

Martin,  Aime,  8. 

Mathieu,  Phillipe  Antoine,  124 

Mathey,  M.,  125,  144. 

"  Memoires  d'outrc  tombe,  168. 


INDEX. 


329 


Milly,.  36,  169. 
Millaud,  Moise,  215,  249. 
Mires,  Jules,  176,  215,  223,  249. 
Miroy,  Clarisse,   230. 
Mole,  Louis  Mathieu,  50. 
Monceaux,  85,  154,  194. 
Montalembert,  Count  C.  F.  de  Ty- 

ron,  43,  169, 

Montlaville,  Chapuis,  165. 
Mormand,  Felix,  146. 
Mont  Cassin,  10. 
Nadaud,  Martin.  241. 
Nemours,  Duke  de,  73- 
Opera,  the  projected,  314. 
Ordinaire,  Dr.,  133,  140. 
Paris  in  May  1848,  147. 
Paris,  receptions  in  39. 
Pascal,  Dr.,  56,  146,  288. 
Pays,  le,  177. 

"  Pecheurs,  les,"  32.  187. 

Pelletan,  Eugene,  69,  81, 149,  162, 
Pepe,  General,  34. 
Petetin,  Anselme,  145. 
"  Pere  Dutemps,"  187. 
Pere  Hyacinthe,  319. 
Pierreclos,  Mme.  Leon  de,  53. 
Pichat,  Laurent,  307. 
Ponsard  Francis,  49. 
Preault  Auguste,  207.  [133. 

Prefectorial  Commission   of  1848, 
Provisional    Government  of  1848, 

137- 

"  Psaumes,"  33. 
Quinet,  Edgar,  8,  85. 
"Raphael,"  242. 
Republic  of  1848,  137. 


Republic,  preparing  for  the,  116. 
Republic,  talk  of  a,  31. 
Robespierre,  F.  M.  J.  L.  101. 
Rolland,  Charles,  70,  78,  108,  114, 

264,  317. 

Ronchaud,  Louis  de,  87,  304,  318. 
Ronot,  M.,  54,  159. 
Romand,  Baron  de,  260. 
Rousseau,  Jean  Jacques,  65. 
Saclier,  M.,  133. 
Salomon,  Adam,  90,  209. 
Solomon,  Mme.,  90.  [48,  211. 

Sainte-Beuve,    Charles    Augustin, 
Saint-Point,  4,  16,  22,  53,  70. 
Saint-Ildefonse,  M.  de,  77. 
Saint-Victor,  Paul,  186. 
Sambin,  M.,  133 
Senton,  M.,  133. 
Shoelcher,  Victor,  306. 
Soumet,  Alexandre,  47. 
Studios,  visits  to  the,  207. 
Texier,  Edmond,  90,  317. 
Thiars  M.  de,  124. 
Thiers,  Adolphe,  323. 
Thiers'  Histoire  de  1'Empire,  24. 
Thyons,  Abbe,  75,  146. 
Toinette,  268. 
Tourreau,   M.  210. 
Toussaint  1'Ouverture,  221. 
Ulbach,  Louis,  198,  308,  317. 
Vaucorbeil  the  composer,  315. 
Vergisson,  295. 
Versaud,  M.,  70,  133. 
Veuillot,  Louis,  54.  250. 
Vigny,  Alfred  Victor,  47,  205. 
Voltaire,  32,  65. 


